


A Revelation of Truth

by ButtonPusherExtraordinaire



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Bratva Oliver Queen, Character Death, Character Study, Death, Espionage, F/M, League of Assassins Oliver Queen, Multi, Murder, Nyssa al Ghul & Oliver Queen Friendship, Oliver Queen Has PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prophecies, Season 3 AU, Self-Acceptance, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 107,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtonPusherExtraordinaire/pseuds/ButtonPusherExtraordinaire
Summary: The duel with Ra's Al Ghul hadn't gone as he had anticipated. Rather, the opposite. Many much-needed truths had been revealed, and before his death, Oliver's mind had been assaulted by the cold, hard truth; and he was unable to look away. What happens when he doesn't stay dead? What happens when he is given a second chance? Nothing is stronger than the truth. AU!





	1. Prologue

**This is my first Arrow story, and I'm not really sure if I'm going to continue it, nonetheless which direction I would go with the story, but this simple idea has been revolving in my head for months, and now, it has been stuck in** **my brain for the past couple of days and refused to leave, so I finally wrote it out, and I've liked what has been written thus far.**

**So, leave a review and tell me if I should continue this. I would appreciate it!**

**I don't watch** **_Arrow_ ** **anymore because, to be blunt, it's terrible, and a mockery of what had made the show so special years ago. Season 1 and Season 2 were absolutely superb, some of the best seasons for** **_any_ ** **TV show that I've ever seen, while Season 3 was pretty good (and by that, I mean the League of Assassin segments and Nyssa) except for some parts - Felicity, Ray, and Laurel. Season 4 is… it's just the worst, and I'm not even going to talk about that unbearable season. Season 5 did take some steps back in the right direction - Prometheus. With his character added to the mix, I sort of, but not really place it on the same level as Season 3, but Felicity and the new team kind of killed the season for me if I'm going to be honest. And don't even get me started on Season 6 - Ugh! I stopped watching many episodes ago, and I don't plan on returning to waste my time by watching the show; there are much better things for me to do.**

**So, needless to say, this is going to be an AU and I'm unsure if the other CW shows -** **_The Flash_ ** **and** **_Supergirl,_ ** **and** **_Legends of Tomorrow_ ** **\- will be included really. We'll have to wait and see. So, without further ado, here's my take on the latter half of Season 3 after Oliver duels Ra's Al Ghul…**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** **_Arrow_ ** **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** **_Arrow_ ** **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

He had lost, and it was as simple as that. To his dismay, he had been beaten as if he were a clumsy child rather than the excellent fighter that he had been molded into from hardship after hardship. For all of his feats throughout the past years, he had mistakenly deluded himself into believing, truly believing that he could defeat Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's Head while continuing to live.

How wrong he had been.

Stories had reached his ears during his time away from Starling City, stories that had always struck awe and fear in his heart. Ra's Al Ghul was a name whispered with thinly-veiled terror through the mouths of thousands, with very few even believing that the man existed. Most had chosen to rather use his monstrous persona as a bedtime story for their children, forcing them to behave or Ra's Al Ghul would snatch them away from their family.

But Oliver had known the truth, he had always known.

Ra's Al Ghul was very real, as real as anyone, and he was staring the ancient man in his cold, dark, dead eyes. Oliver cursed Malcolm for forcing him to do this, vowing that should he somehow, impossibly survive this encounter, he would kill his godfather painfully, father of Thea or not.

"You should take pride, boy." Ra's Al Ghul's eyes shined with something _._  Intrigue, perhaps, or something else. "You've survived longer than most, if not all. It's a shame that you… murdered Ta-er al-Asfar. If things had played out differently, you would have made a most-prized horseman." The Demon's Head almost seemed thoughtful, even regretful, and Oliver had the split-second, ridiculous thought that his life wasn't about to be snuffed out by the most dangerous man on Earth. "Such a waste…"

Ra's sword was pointed at him almost lazily, but poise echoed through the man's body, clashing against the memory of Oliver's sloppy movements across the cliff. His mistakes might define his death, it seemed. Oliver had lost his own fortune because of his mistakes and he stumbled back, very conscious of the edge of the mountain, the scars littering his body tightened in warning as the howling winds alerted him to the fact that he was only several feet away.

The biting chill seemed to rejuvenate his spirit, energy filling his body as he stared down the Demon's Head. The snow crunched beneath his boot as he bent his knees slightly, preparing to roll to the side, away from his adversary.

Ra's Al Ghul smiled slightly, and it confused Oliver. "I see that you truly are a warrior, boy. You refuse death, you fear its cold embrace, and you would do anything to stave off its inevitability. You would battle me even though it is hopeless. That is something, believe it or not, that I respect; it is most rare and pleasurable to discover. My daughter was correct: you are much like the stories that she had heard of her father during her childhood."

Rage swelled in his heart, disgust mingling within at the thought of Ra's Al Ghul, the murderer of thousands, perhaps millions of people, respecting and praising Oliver, smiling at him for being like himself _._ The fury scorched through his blood, making his body shiver as the Demon's Head was right.

Oliver didn't want to die, not at all.

He had triumphed over so much; he had forged his once-dainty body into a living, breathing weapon. He had killed people unforgivingly during his time away from home so that he could live, and if he was honest with himself, he would go back in time and do it all over again if it meant that he could still live. He didn't regret it; he was saddened by it, but not regretful. After all, he had so much to live for now. Before his return, he had had nothing, yet he had fought on, refusing to fall into death's releasing embrace. Once he had returned to Starling City and become the 'Arrow', he had Thea, Diggle, Roy, Laurel, and Felicity to care for. He had his city to live for and, in the unlikely situation, die for.

Now, he was on the brink of death's door because of Malcolm's machinations and the Demon Head's sword that Ra's had effortlessly plucked out of Oliver's own hands. Self-loathing swirled in his mind; he had always been mocked by Slade on the Island because of his unwillingness to train properly with a sword. And it seemed that his unwillingness to train with the blade would be the catalyst for his death.

Now, looking back, Oliver realized that it was laziness that had stopped him from training with the sword. Once Shado, poor, sweet, innocent Shado had introduced Oliver to the bow and arrow, he had been hooked - it was a way to honor Yao Fei's memory and plus, it had been so easy, too easy to learn.

Sword training had always been so difficult, and he had struggled with it until he eventually quit like a child, refusing to work hard to get better, to become skilled. He had acted just like before the island, wanting everything served to him on a damned silver platter.

Never again would he be lazy!

Adrenaline abruptly fueled his body with strength, and with a blur of his right arm, he smacked Ra's sword away from his face with his own blade. The Demon's Head easily recovered, apparently not at all surprised, and Oliver jabbed the man's hand down once again, following with a blinding punch towards Ra's exposed face, triumphing in the feel of bones  _cracking._  Then, he wrenched the shoulder down, twisting it brutally, tearing tendons and muscles alike as Ra's sword dropped from his suddenly numb fingers.

Oliver looked over Ra's Al Ghul's kneeling form, prepared to drive his sword through the man's skull, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nyssa, beautiful, fiery Nyssa step forward, disbelief carved into her attractive face. Oliver paused, suddenly remembering when he had been forced to watch as Slade murdered his mother right in front of him and Thea on that damned night. He remembered the horror, the guilt, and the sorrow that had poisoned his heart, breaking his mind, his spirit.

He didn't want that for Nyssa, the only person who he sometimes felt could actually understand him in his life on the rare times when he had spoken with her. If he killed her father, would she try to kill him? His gaze fully settled on her for a split-second and with a start, he realized that behind the disbelief in her face, her eyes glowed with relief, and with hope _._

His eyes widened minutely as he realized that Nyssa… she wanted Ra's dead, yearned for it even. He could see it in her eyes - she feared her immortal father and wanted out from under his seemingly divine thumb.

Decision made, Oliver swung his sword downward, aiming to sever Ra's head from his shoulders, but the man rolled to the side agilely, as if he were Oliver's own age instead of what the legends claimed his age to be. Oliver stumbled and raised his sword again, roaring as he sought to plunge it into Ra's now-standing body. But in a blur of motion, almost imperceptible, Ra's Al Ghul caught the blade between his fingers before it sliced his head in half, dark eyes blazing with something akin to glee, and before Oliver could overcome his absolute shock, Ra's other hand shot upward in a blinding jab to Oliver's throat, crushing his larynx.

Oliver's numb hand slipped from the sword as Ra's pulled it away, clawing at his throat in a desperate attempt to fix what was unfixable. Surprisingly, there was no pain in his throat, but a sense of wrongness, an empty feeling that restricted his breathing. A searing pain spasmed in his side as Ra's narrowly jammed the sword through his side, only a few inches deep.

He could do nothing as Ra's paused there, holding the blade between inside his skin, ruminating over something. Oliver greedily, desperately tried to breathe, but it began to grow more painful with every passing breath; only thin streams of divine air entered his lungs. He tried to speak, but his voice box was mangled, irreparable.

Suddenly Ra's twisted and smashed his elbow into Oliver's face, breaking his nose loudly, the  _crunching_  sound echoing throughout the cliff. The Queen scion fell to his knees, pain everywhere, flashing sporadically as he finally accepted that his death was only, and simply, the inevitable _._

His vision tunneled and he saw Nyssa standing next to Maseo, both of them tense in the realization that he was going to die, and there was nothing that they could do to stop it. Oliver kept his pain-filled eyes on her, apologizing for everything. For siding with Malcolm over believing her as his hate for Malcolm blazed in his eyes just as it blazed in hers. He felt relieved that they understood each other at that moment; each moment when their heart beat, it reminded them that Malcolm's heart still beat, bringing life to the one who they would never forgive. His eyes apologized for his failure, his inability to defeat her father. Most of all, they shined with his remorse over letting Sara's true killer –  _Malcolm!_  – continue to live. He tried to speak the words, but they wouldn't pass because of his crushed larynx. He shuddered in relief as she seemed to understand, nodding her head; it was a strange look that crossed over her face.

His gaze drifted to Maseo and he apologized for Akio, poor, lively, kind-hearted Akio. Oliver had been too late to save his friend's son, and he had died painfully as a result of his  _weakness_. Maseo's lips parted and he swallowed, a sheen of tears shining in his eyes.

Ra's seemed to be able to understand the exchange between him, his daughter, and Maseo – or Sarab _._  The Demon's Head tilted his head, pursing his lips, "Do not be afraid, my son." He stepped closer, understanding and respect gleaming in his cold eyes. "Death comes for us all," he leaned down until his breath ghosted over Oliver's ear. The Queen scion didn't even try to summon the strength to shove the Demon's Head off the mountain - he was too tired, too pain-ridden. "We can only evade it for so long, even for one… such as me _."_ Ra's Al Ghul stood to his full height, looming over Oliver as death's incarnate.

Oliver's eyes followed the man's movements, feeling a calm that he hadn't felt in years descend on his mind. His mind flashed to the past, to the memories of the Island, his true home _._  One of the biggest, if not the biggest regret in his life was that of his failure to save Slade, his brother _._ He had been too grief-filled to reveal the truth to his friend all of those years ago, allowing Sara to convince him that it was Ivo who had killed Shado, but he had always known that it was his own fault. It didn't matter that he hadn't been able to do anything; he should have tried something prior and changed it all.

His eyes were drawn to the sword in Ra's hand and he mentally apologized to Slade, hoping that somehow, his remorse would reach his old friend's ears locked away on Lian Yu.

Now his sins had caught up to him, condemning him for his actions. The truth was blinding in the form of the Demon's Head. He had never been a hero as Diggle and Felicity believed. No. He had played at being a hero knowing that, deep down, it was all an amazing, whispered lie. His schoolboy heroics were redundant and had gotten him nowhere; the mercy that he had shown was illogical.

A hand gripped his chin and pulled it up, connecting Oliver's eyes with Ra's. "Things could have been different in another reality, boy. But… consider this an honorable exit from this life." Ra's blurred forward as Oliver gasped out as the sword was plunged into his chest, tearing through skin, muscles, organs, and bones. He felt no pain, oddly enough, only cold. He could feel his right lung fill with blood, making it even harder to breathe through his maimed throat.

His vision began to dim as bright, red blood streamed out of his wound, staining the sword currently shoved through his chest. Ra's began to gently murmur – and he even detected sorrow in the Demon's Head's voice – something in what Oliver suspected to be Arabic, but he didn't struggle. Rather, he accepted it as he felt death calling. At least, he had finally done something right for once - Thea would be unharmed and hopefully, through John and the others' assistance, she would distance herself away from Malcolm.

One last time, his lidded eyes sought out Nyssa's and he was relieved to see no anger shining in her orbs, no indignation at his choice to fight Ra's. Rather, it seemed that she knew that he hadn't killed Sara, that it was all a grandiose deception. Maybe, she could kill Malcolm for him once he died, ripping that bastard out of Thea's life.

Just as the darkness filled his vision, Ra's Al Ghul's boot smashed into his chest with bone-breaking force, flinging him off the mountain, blood-slick sword sliding out of his body. The last feeling that he could discern was the chilled wind battering his body relentless, tearing into his flesh.

Then,  _nothing._

XxXxXxXxXxX

The bitter cold swirled around the cliff, seemingly celebrating the death of Oliver Queen, but it was the only one. While Sarab and his daughter focused on securing the weapon boxes and arranging transportation back to Nanda Parbat, Ra's Al Ghul stared out over the cliff, into the foggy-darkness of the winter-stained mountain.

His daughter's face was set in a cold mask of indifference, but he could see the anger that burned in her eyes - eyes that reminded him so much of her mother - undoubtedly because she hadn't been the one who ended the boy's life, avenging her forbidden-lover, Ta-er al-Asfar. Ra's had never approved of his daughter's sinful relationship with Sara Lance, and he cursed the day when he had tasked Nyssa with setting foot on Lian Yu.

The death of Ta-er al-Asfar had been fortuitous with his plans in spite of the migraine-inducing quarrels that had arisen with her demise. For some time, he had noticed that his time in this world was soon to be over, and a new, worthy Demon's Head must be groomed to take his place as his successor. The Lazarus Pits were losing their potency on his body, foreshadowing his imminent death in what he could discern, probably around a decade or so.

The time to consider the future of the League of Assassins was imperative.

Sara Lance was an unspeakable weakness in his daughter's life, and he had planned for her death for many months, deciphering his options on how the blame would not fall on his shoulders by his daughter's hands. Thankfully, her demise by whoever it was who Oliver Queen had been protecting had led to his hands being clean from judgment.

But since Ta-er al-Asfar's demise, Ra's had observed his daughter's devotion to a dead woman; he had seen how it had clouded Nyssa's judgment, showing that she was inadequate for the ascension to the title of Ra's Al Ghul. He would need to find a new heir, a worthy heir to bear his mantle of power.

Oliver Queen had, in his eyes, been worthy. The boy was young, a lot younger than what Ra's had originally believed. How could a boy not even 30-years-old defeat his old horseman, Al Sa-Her, easily one of the finest warriors who he had trained in his long life? Then, to Ra's amazement, the boy had triumphed over Slade Wilson, a man consumed by the power of the  _Mirakuru_.

He dimly noticed Sarab close the weapons' box and await a command, but Ra's ignored him, mentally replaying the fight between him and the boy. It was an unmatched bout, just as every fight was when Ra's participated. He had lived a thousand lives, killed thousands of men, and before his time had ended, he would kill a thousand more. And yet despite everything, the boy, who held no formal League training – although Ra's suspected that his eldest, exiled, failure of a daughter had been a brief teacher to Oliver Queen – had lasted longer than anyone who Ra's could recall in combat against him except his old friend. The boy had injured him, the Demon's Head quite grievously. He had been forced to use Lazarus Pit water to heal his body, for the boy had torn several of his shoulder ligaments, tendons, and muscles. Oliver Queen had fractured several bones in his face from a single punch! It was simply incredible, unheard-of.

It had been a shame, a waste to discard such potential.

The death of Oliver Queen had given him no pleasure or joy, but a blood debt had had to be paid. The tradition demanded it, yet perhaps, there was a way around it. Ra's remembered the prophecy murmured by his predecessor as he died:  _'He who survives the sword of Ra's Al Ghul, will become Ra's Al Ghul.'_  Thinking over the words to the true prophecy, he realized something.

The prophecy didn't specify how one had to survive. The Lazarus Pit could easily be utilized to allow Oliver Queen to survive Ra's sword. Perhaps, with the inner strength, fortitude, and power that Ra's had sensed in the boy, Mr. Queen would survive without the Lazarus Pit, narrowly hanging onto life at the bottom of the mountain. Either way, the end result would be the same: Ra's would finally have his worthy heir.

He felt a rare smile curve across his lips, and he abruptly turned around; his smile faded as he gazed at Sarab and his daughter. Both were the greatest Shadows who he currently possessed among his legions, but they had already reached their fullest potential.

Whereas, the boy had not.

Ra's Al Ghul sensed that Oliver Queen's inherent potential had barely been brought to the surface, and he intended to help the boy reach that brilliant, glorious, destiny-given potential.

"I want you both to find Oliver Queen's body and bring it to me." Ra's informed the two after several moments; he stared at them intently, watching for any signs of hesitation on their faces. Sarab twitched and Ra's knew that he had made the correct decision in sending both of them to fetch the boy's body. Sarab's old life might take over, destroying the boy's body in what he would perceive as an act of mercy. Nyssa would make certain that Oliver Queen's body would be brought to him. He had heard her temper about the boy enough times to know that his daughter hated him; she would not disobey him for something such as this. "This is your only mission, and it will be indefinite until you recover the body. I don't care if it takes you months or even years. You will bring me Oliver Queen's body, alive or dead."

Both kneeled before him, nodding their heads in unison. "Your will be done, my liege."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Nyssa followed Sarab's form as they traveled down the perilous terrain of the mountain, biting wind tearing through their armor and clothes, chilling their blood. Their descent was slow, hesitant for one wrong step, and they would both die. The heavy, blinding-white snow crunched beneath their boots, gifting them traction as they stumbled across the thin crevices.

A deathly stillness plagued across the area, so far removed from any civilization, and no animal dared tread upon the deadly, narrow ledge. It was Mother Nature at her peak power; howling gales battered into ancient stones relentlessly, shaking the mountain itself with its mighty blows. Crystal white snowflakes danced in the air merrily, seeming to mock them as they struggled through the terrain.

She glanced at Sarab and noticed that he had abruptly stopped in his tracks and began to shake badly, and it didn't seem to be from the cold. The wooden cot that Oliver Queen's body was to be laid upon fell from his grip, smashing against the snow with numb force. She found herself concerned, afraid that he might collapse.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She demanded, glancing at the ground, trying to discern how much further until they could safely find shelter from the weather. "Do you see anything?"

Sarab shuddered and to her shock, fell to his knees, body quivering as strange sounds like those of a sob escaped his throat. "Oliver, my- my friend," he choked out sorrowfully, pure guilt and remorse poisoning his tone. Nyssa was about to reprimand him, wondering why Sarab would be so upset about Oliver Queen's death and why he would call the man his 'friend' when she saw it _._

The crevice that they were narrowly balanced on opened up several yards ahead, creating an almost perfect, many-meters-wide circle. There, between two pine trees sporadically peppered with snow, a broken body laid in a perfect, beautiful resting place.

Nyssa's lips parted and her breath shuddered, coming in short pants. She had known that Oliver Queen was already dead, had known it since the moment when her father had accepted the man's outrageous challenge. Watching as her father had mercilessly toyed with the man who she had, in spite of everything between them, come to respect, had sickened her, leaving her unable to do anything as her father plunged his sword through Oliver's chest and flung his body off the mountain, throwing the sword into the ground nonchalantly.

She had known, and come to terms with Oliver's imminent demise, but... it was another thing to see his corpse. She had killed many people and seen many rotting corpses, but the sight of Oliver Queen's too-still body filled her own mind with something in which she couldn't name or even define.

Sarab stumbled forward, feet slipping through the snow and Nyssa lurched forward, managing to avoid the fallen bed, and gripped his shoulder to keep him from plummeting to his death. "What is wrong with you?" She hissed, unable to keep her own emotions from coloring her tone, "There is nothing that you can do for him! Why would you even want to?"

"I didn't wish for this," her father's horseman shuddered out, the words tumbling out of his lips. "I had- I had prayed for the opposite outcome, but…" he trailed off as he wept, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Nyssa's eyes widened at Sarab's admission. So, she wasn't the only one who desired for Ra's Al Ghul to perish. She could easily report the treachery to her father and rid herself of competition within the League, but she wasn't going to because when the time came, she would need all the support that she could acquire to ascend to kill the current Demon's Head. Despite contrary belief, she wasn't naive to her father's wishes. She knew that he desired a male heir above all else, and that he viewed her as a disappointment. She also knew that when she had pursued her relationship with Sara, she had forsaken any slim chance that she had had to ascend to her father's throne upon his death.

Sarab seemed to compose himself somewhat, and he approached Oliver's body slowly. Nyssa followed him, keeping her eyes from gazing at the broken body. She didn't know why, but the thought of staring at Oliver's dead body filled her with dread.

Her companion's boots crunched as he kneeled in the snow next to Oliver's body, and Nyssa, after several moments, finally looked as Sarab spoke. "I had no desire to see you fall, my friend… I'm so sorry, Oliver," he whispered, and Nyssa began to realize that, somehow, the two men had known each other.

She found her eyes wandering Oliver's body, swallowing as the signs of her father's deadly power were more than visible. The snow beneath his corpse was stained red; chunks of what looked like part of a lung were smudged in the flurries of snow. Oliver's skin was as pale as the snow wrapped around his body. His wounds were grotesque and seemed to be in the beginning stages of decomposition, starting the process to rot _._  Full, dead lips were blue, and Nyssa swallowed as she saw his crushed larynx up close. Even if Oliver had miraculously survived the fall, he would have coveted death, begged for it. The pain that he must have suffered in his final moments fully softened her heart towards the man who had sided with Malcolm Merlyn.

Nyssa shook her head, refusing to think about that lying bastard for now. All that mattered was that they retrieved Oliver's body and brought it to Ra's Al Ghul, but neither she or Sarab moved, unwilling to do as her father had ordered.

Before she realized what she was doing, Nyssa lowered herself to her knees, and placed her gloved hand on Oliver's chest, over the wound that had snuffed out a great man's life. She noticed that he looked at peace and she hoped that he truly was; she envisioned that Sara had welcomed Oliver with welcome arms into the afterlife.

Her eyes traced over the myriad of scars decorating his body and she was amazed at the hardships that must have forged Oliver Queen from a playboy into a warrior who had rivaled herself, one who had the blood of Ra's Al Ghul flowing in her veins.

Suddenly, Sarab bolted to his feet and pointed his sword at her neck before she could react. She didn't dare move, furious at herself for becoming distracted, but knowing that Sarab, for whatever reason, was grief-filled.

"What do you think are doing?"

"I'm going to save him," her father's horseman huffed out, his voice raw with emotions. "I'm going to bring him back to life."

Nyssa shook her head minutely, keeping her voice level, "And how, pray tell, are you going to accomplish that, Sarab? You heard Ra's Al Ghul, did you not? He wants Oliver Queen's body for a reason that I know not. The Lazarus Pit is deep in the heart of Nanda Parbat. Oliver Queen is dead, and there is nothing that you can do to bring him back."

"He would have done the same for me. I must try to bring him back."

"Why? Why is this so important to you, Sarab?"

"Because he's my friend."

Silence. Cold. Snow.

After several moments, Nyssa swallowed. "You knew him."

"Yes... He's my friend."

"Why are you going to kill me?" She asked softly, wondering if she could catch him off guard by batting the blade aside, but that seemed highly unlikely given how  _tense_  Sarab was. "Surely you know the consequences of such an action."

Her potential killer's mouth thinned, frowning with remorse. "I can't have you stopping me from saving him, Nyssa."

Raising an eyebrow, Nyssa remaining calm despite the sword mere inches from her throat. "And if I had no desire to do so? What if my goals were aligned with your own?"

Sarab's sword wavered and Nyssa swiftly, in a blurred motion, rolled backward, jumping to her feet in one smooth movement, sword pulled from its scabbard.

After several seconds of a tense stand-off, Nyssa slowly dropped her sword to the ground, snow exploding outward in a mini shower of white powder. "I do not want to fight you, Sarab," she said slowly, knowing that the man was currently unhinged with grief. "In fact, I want to help you."

"Why?"

Nyssa licked her lips, and for the first time in her life, verbally acknowledged her yearning for her father to die. "I want Ra's Al Ghul to cease to exist, to- to die _._  I cannot… keep living under his immortal… heel _._ " Desperation colored her tone and she cursed herself for showing such weakness against her potential killer. "How I have lived… that has not been living."

Sarab breathed deeply and sheathed his weapon and Nyssa almost sighed in relief. "Come, I know a place where we can potentially revive him." He dipped down, and with a grunt of effort, slung Oliver's body over his shoulder.

"No!" She shouted, "If we want to have any chance of reviving him, we cannot make his numerous injuries worse!" Nyssa glanced at the ledge and was relieved to see the cot still there. "Grab the cot and place him on it," she ordered, almost growling out the command. "You will pull, and I will keep watch as we travel to this place where we will revive him."

She knew that their treasonous actions had initiated the clocks to their deaths, and the only hope to destroy the clock was through the dead man lying in the snow in utter peace. Their final, only salvation was Oliver Queen, the man who had survived in a fight against her father longer than any of whom she had ever heard.

XxXxXxXxXxX

**Well, that's all for this chapter, folks! I don't know if I'll continue this, so please, leave a review and let me know what you thought of it. Whether it be positive or negative, I would really appreciate it.**

**I'm going to explain my reasoning for a few things:**

****Oliver is much more like his Season 1, Season 2, and Season 5 flashback persona. To be honest, the show turned him into a wimp who needs the advice of everybody else before he makes a decision. He is not a** **child who needs to be told about the consequences of his actions because he already knows – at least he should know already** **_._ ** **If I do, in fact, continue this story, Oliver will not be what** **_Arrow_ ** **has depicted him as the past couple of seasons - an inexperienced rookie. In this version, Oliver has suppressed the rage that allowed him to survive for so long, but it begins to seep out during his fight with Ra's.**

****Yes, Malcolm is going to be like he was in Season 1 if I continue this - an awesome, badass villain.**

****Ra's is far more cunning and proactive in this than the show. I actually really liked the version of Ra's in** **_Arrow_ ** **except for… that one scene, the… infamous guru scene. I really liked the 3x20 episode, except for the Olicity drama/romance that felt shoved down everyone's throats. I mean, right before that insufferable sex scene, it had Felicity brazenly confronting Ra's al Ghul, the most** **dangerous man in the world, in his inner sanctum that houses the Lazarus Pit. Then, to make the entire scene so much worse, Ra's Al Ghul proceeded to give her advice like he was a love guru or something, sprouting some poetic themes about love and time. Instead of being what you would expect from a cold-blooded assassin, the leader of the deadliest army in the world, that was what we got. *headshake* The real Ra's al Ghul, the one who I base the character on, would have cut off Felicity's head and made sure that there was no trace of her body to use the Lazarus Pit to heal and/or resurrect her.**

****Nyssa and Maseo agree to somehow bring Oliver back to life through means unknown. I think that Nyssa, in the show, must have had some idea that her father was unhappy with her. I mean, she is a very smart character and has been raised in Nanda Parbat. She should understand Ra's Al Ghul's mindset better than just about anyone, but** **_Arrow_ ** **had her so shocked by his decision. Fury, yes. Brokenness, yes. Those two emotions would make sense, but not shock for someone as intelligent as Nyssa.**

**And no, Maseo didn't 'beat' Nyssa. Rather, she had been caught off-guard and was put in a position where there wasn't much that she could do to escape. In my honest opinion, I think that a fight between the two would be really** **close, just like a fight between Nyssa and Malcolm, but I would like to think that Nyssa would win because come on, she is Nyssa Al Ghul.**

**Well, that's everything. Please, remember to leave a review and tell me what you thought. I would really appreciate it because I don't know if I'll continue it, or leave it as a one-shot.**

**_Stay Safe_ ** _**  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** _**Arrow** _ **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** _**Arrow** _ **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

The forest surrounding the area was  _dark,_  and no end seemed to be in sight. The cold had only grown in its intensity, howling with an unholy chill that permeated their bodies relentlessly, weighing down their souls.

Despite the hazardous journey, Sarab seemed to know exactly where he was going, treading through the knee-deep snow with confidence that Nyssa herself didn't feel. To her shame, she yearned for a fire to warm her numb body. She had lost all sense of feeling in her toes and fingers many hours ago, and she was afraid that she might have even developed frostbite.

To keep calm, because her father would surely kill her if she lost her phalanges - she would be useless to him, Nyssa stared down at Oliver's body laid upon the oak-made cot. His wound had finally stopped bleeding and she knew that that was bad.

It meant that there was no blood that remained in the body; the heart had stopped pumping.

She felt the weight of the small vial hooked around a dark chain, wrapped gently around her neck more intensely than ever before. She gripped it softly and her fingers roved the intricate markings that could be felt even through her gloves.

When Nyssa has officially become an adult in the eyes of her father, for her name-day, he had gifted her with a small, delicate vial of pure Lazarus Pit water. A very rare expression had been carved into his marble-like features - tenderness. Ra's had softly wrapped her hands around the vial, revealing that it was a gift whose price was infinite, and countless counties would tear one another apart for even a  _drop_  of the liquid inside.

He had told her - no,  _ordered_ her - to only use it when her life was in perilous danger, or even fading into the afterlife in a desperate attempt to stave off death's call. Nyssa had been awed and humbly bowed before her father, vowing to do as he had ordered.

Now, staring at the broken man whom her hopes laid upon, she wondered if she would be forced to use the vial's precious fluid to help bring Oliver back to life. Honestly, she doubted that even  _that_  would work to heal his wounds. It would take over a full minute of submergence in Ra's Al Ghul's Lazarus Pit for Oliver's body to fully be restored from the damage that her father had inflicted.

What would a smallish vial be able to heal?

If push came to shove, as Sara had often said, would she be able to gift Oliver, the man who had sided with Malcolm instead of Nyssa herself, the vial from the Lazarus Pit?

She wanted to say yes, but deep down, she wasn't sure she would be able to give up such a  _treasure_.

"We are almost there," Sarab suddenly roared over the howling winds, "only another… mile, or so."

Nyssa pursed her lips and nodded, determined not to complain about the well-below-zero temperatures and the fact that their plan to resurrect Oliver was flimsy  _at best._  Also, the fact that they had been walking for three days through the terrain, only resting in the shade of large trees for a few hours, weighed heavily. All food that they had had was gone, and Nyssa truly hoped that Sarab was correct about the distance.

To the best of her ability, she fought on.

Eventually, time began to lose meaning as she continued to trudge through the deep,  _cold_  snow behind Sarab, who was pulling the wooden cot, leaving a couple of yards between them. The only thing she focused on was keeping her footsteps even, steady as the wind sought to blast her armor off, leaving her nude to battle Mother Nature.

It took a lot more effort than she wanted to admit, and for reasons that she couldn't explain, her gaze was drawn to Oliver's broken body, several feet in front of her.

Her eyes narrowed in on the injuries that littered his body, leaving no part of his skin untouched. She gathered strength from it. Oliver Queen had  _suffered_  in life, as evidenced by his  _many,_  numerous scars. He had probably physically suffered more than  _she herself_  had, and she was determined to make his memory proud. Despite the pure fatigue poisoning her limbs, she strove on.

"I need your help." Sarab suddenly shouted, "The cabin is close, but I need you to help look for traps."

Nyssa frowned, "What kind of 'traps' are there?"

"Ones that are meant to  _kill_ ,"

She nodded and kept her eyes on the lookout for any signs of a trap. After several minutes, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on a magnificent-looking cabin camouflaged in the woods, blending in seamlessly with Mother Nature. Beautiful, Douglas fir woods framed the home, it's signature red and yellow hues contrasting beautifully against the pale, white snow.

She glanced down at Oliver and hoped that if they did, indeed, revive him, he wouldn't try to kill them.

Legends say that exposure to the Lazarus Pit, for some few people, had caused them to become  _someone_  else.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She had eagerly pulled off her armor as soon as she and Sarab had laid Oliver down on a table, the man's lifeless features making her feel uncomfortable. A fire ignited in the furnace and Nyssa had been relieved to discover that she had  _not_ become afflicted by frostbite. Quickly, Sarab had placed food in front of her and she had eagerly consumed it, uncaring if it was poisoned. She was  _too hungry!_

After she had finished, Sarab sat next to her and they both stared at Oliver Queen's corpse, mulling over what their treasonous actions could act as a catalyst for.

After several more moments, Nyssa turned to her father's horseman, "How do you know him?"

Sarab licked his lips and his eyes became hazy in remembrance, "What do you know of Oliver?"

She raised a brow, "He is, he  _was_ , the Arrow in Starling City, he was Sar- …Ta-er al-Asfar's friend, he was an excellent warrior, and he used to be a playboy, transforming into the warrior I knew after he was trapped on Lian Yu for years."

"Oliver wasn't always on Lian Yu." He said softly, surprising her as the words floated in the stiff, musty air of the cabin, "Five years ago, the year that Ta-er al-Asfar joined the League, the same year that  _I did,_  I had met Oliver. He was a cunning man, a skilled warrior who, with no formal training at the beginning of his service for A.R.G.U.S., was able to defeat trained government agents and mobsters who worked for the Triad." He swallowed and he reached out, placing his ungloved hand on Oliver's unmoving chest, "He was a good friend, the  _best_."

"What happened?" She whispered, curious to know more about the man who had captured Sara's heart for a long time.

Sarab suddenly looked around the cabin, eyes sad. "Oliver was under Amanda Waller's heel, and I was his handler. He stayed with my family, my wife and son, for months. Eventually, after many botched missions, he became  _apart_ of our family - he was the brother who I never had growing up. I would have done anything for him, and he for me. Then, the  _Alpha and Omega_  bioweapon attack happened. An Army General by the name of … _Shrieve_ ," Sarab's fists clenched tightly, so tightly that Nyssa was slightly worried that his knuckles might burst through his skin, "released the weapon in Hong Kong, where Oliver and I were located. The attack killed hundreds of thousands, among them, my sweet, beautiful  _boy,"_  A tear slipped down his cheek, "Akio."

Nyssa was quiet, uncertain of what to say. Nobody had ever opened up to her emotionally before. Not even Sara. It was… strange.

"Oliver and I had raced to save my son, but it was too late," Nyssa vowed that if General Shrieve were somehow still alive, she would carve the man's skin from his body.  _No_ child deserves to suffer like that! "I  _broke_ ," He confessed quietly, "but Oliver  _didn't_. While I mourned with my wife, feeling like a failure, Oliver  _tortured_  the bastard for hours upon  _hours_. By the time I had arrived with Tatsu, Shrieve resembled more of an animal put through a  _slaughterhouse_  than a human being. It was so gruesome that I had felt the roots of  _pity_ for my son's murderer. Then, recognizing that that emotion was  _completely_  intolerable, I killed the man. Oliver didn't judge me - he was as grief-filled as I was; I suspect he saw my precious, Akio as a younger brother, like another sibling to replace the void from the absence of Thea Queen. That day, my friend had showcased… a  _darkness_  that I had envied, that I was in awe of. Soon thereafter, I fled to Nanda Parbat, abandoning my wife when she had needed me most and my friend, believing them both to be better off without me."

She swallowed, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder, "I am truly sorry for your loss, Sarab."

"I didn't hear a word about Oliver until Starling City's prodigal son had returned several years ago. Then, I had kept my eyes on Starling, aching to hear anything about my friend. Your father had noticed my seeming fascination with the 'Hood', as Oliver had been called, and I had no choice but to reveal  _everything_  to Ra's Al Ghul. That's when your father took more of an…  _interest_  in Oliver."

"He desired him as his heir." She said bluntly, not at all surprised by her revelation. She had always known that if the choice was presented to her father, he would choose a male over Nyssa  _every single time._

That didn't mean that the admission didn't pain her, wounding her heart relentlessly.

"I suspect so, yes." Sarab murmured, staring at his fallen friend. His dark eyes were misty, clouded with memories and Nyssa was envious of him. All that she had ever known was that of Nanda Parbat and the League. She knew nothing of the outside world and their strange customs. All she knew was that men were superior to females and that her father wanted a worthy man above all else to inherit his…

Her eyes abruptly widened in realization, "Ra's Al Ghul  _does_  want Oliver as his heir." She said, connecting the dots. While the clues were almost nonexistent to anyone else, she understood her father's mindset better than almost anyone alive, " _That's_  why he sent us to retrieve the body, to see if he had  _survived._  The Prophecy!  _'He who survives the sword of Ra's Al Ghul, will become Ra's Al Ghul.'"_

Sarab was ramrod, posture tense, "But Oliver is - …he's  _dead._ " He choked out.

"I don't know, but my father, if he  _truly_  covets Oliver as his heir, will find a loophole surrounding the prophecy; he  _always does."_

Silence. Candles. Fire.

Nyssa stared at Oliver's corpse, his still,  _cold_  body. She remembered when, a little over a week ago, the man had stared into her father's eyes defiantly,  _fearlessly._  She had been struck because, to her immense knowledge, everybody was afraid of Ra's Al Ghul, even his horsemen, and even his  _own_  daughter.

Oliver wasn't, at least he hadn't shown it, which was incredible. Instead, he had stood tall, calmly challenging her father. He hadn't batted an eye when Sarab had held a sword to his neck, locking eyes with Ra's Al Ghul, daring him to order it.

She flashed back to when Oliver had arrived at the League's Starling City warehouse. He had calmly stridden towards her, parting through the cans of fire like he belonged.  _"Where is he?"_  He had asked, no hitch in his voice, body calm yet poised.

Nyssa had been appalled,  _fascinated_ by the gall of Oliver. How could this mere man, who was stuck masquerading as a hero, simply expect that  _Ra's Al Ghul_  would meet him?

She remembered her features scrunching,  _"Do you really think my father, the Demon's Head, will travel all the way from Nanda Parbat simply because you wish it?"_  Nyssa had waited with bated breath for his reply, eager to hear what Oliver Queen would say in response to her challenge.

" _Yes."_  Oliver had replied with a single word, so simply, so  _honestly,_ and so fearlessly that Nyssa had felt a slight smile form on her face, her lips twitching in an almost awe.

_Nobody_  had ever spoken about Ra's Al Ghul in the almost flippant way that Oliver Queen had.

To hide her small, impressed smile, she had turned around,  _"This way."_  She had then led him through the warehouse, led him to his death sentence.

Sarab brought his fingers to the edge of his mouth, bringing Nyssa out of her memories, "Will you report me?"

She shook her head, knowing what it was that he was alluding to, "No, because I want my father dead. And the only person who can accomplish that is lying in front of us."

"Then, we need to revive him quickly." Sarab stood up and walked to a cupboard, unlocking it with a flick of his wrist. The door opened with a loud creak, and Sarab suddenly reached in and pulled out a  _beautiful_  sword.

Nyssa's eyes widened, "What is that?" She grimaced immediately after the words passed her lips because it was  _obviously_  a sword.

"It was my wife's sword." Sarab closed the cupboard and sat back down next to her, sword in hand. "It was a family heirloom passed down for generations. Since Akio…  _died_  and Tatsu was the last of her line, I'm the one who it passes down to. It's named 'Soultaker' for its ability."

"It can resurrect someone." She breathed out, "That was your plan all along, wasn't it? Use Soultaker to revive Oliver?"

"It was, but I don't know how to use the sword." Sarab admitted quietly, "At least, its  _full_ power. Tatsu died a little over a year ago from, what I suspect, a fever.  _This_  cabin was her dwelling." His eyes became hazy and then he seemed to snap out of it, "Anyway, if I knew how to fully wield it, or if my wife was still alive, I could resurrect someone who has been in a lot of contact with it, like  _Oliver_  was in Hong Kong. His soul was  _imprinted_  into Soultaker, _but_  I don't know how to do that. Tatsu would, but she's moved past this life. Because of these problems, there isn't an  _infallible way_  to revive him with his personality  _and_ memories intact." He hesitated suddenly, uncertainty carved into his face, and she knew what he was about to suggest.

Nyssa interrupted him before he could speak, and without second-guessing herself, plucked the vial from her neck, "This vial contains Lazarus Pit water. It was a name-day gift from my father years ago. And no, still sneaking into Nanda Parbat to acquire more is complete and utter suicide."

Sarab sighed tiredly, quickly overcoming his apparent shock that  _she_  possessed a small amount of water from the Lazarus Pit, "Without access to Ra's Al Ghul's Lazarus Pit, we won't be able to do it, even with Soultaker. Once Oliver is revived, his soul will be  _wrong._  With my minimal knowledge of the sword, all I would be able to do is  _heal_  the  _wrongness_  in his soul with Soultaker, but  _that's_ it. Despite that, we would still have a troubling experience with reviving him."

"Why?"

"The blood!" Sarab rubbed his scrunched eyebrows "Oliver's been dead for a  _week_  now since the fall! His heart is no longer pumping blood, and he's lost  _too much_ , highly likely that  _more than_   _half_  of his body's blood supply is  _stained in the snow!_  A human being can only lose about thirty to forty percent of their blood supply before they die! Only a Lazarus  _Pit_  could replenish all of the lost blood in such a short amount of time to allow Oliver to be resurrected. _"_

"Could we do a blood transfusion somehow?" She asked after pondering the problem for several seconds.

Sarab shook his head solemnly, "He has Rh-negative blood. He's O-, only able to have that type of blood enter his bloodstream."

Nyssa calmly twisted her forearm until a few veins were barely visible in the dim light of the cabin, "I am O-,  _and_  I am Rh-negative as well."

"That is  _incredibly rare_." He breathed out, "Are you  _certain?_ "

"I suspect that I inherited my blood type from my mother." She said quietly, "I never knew her, but my father has often spoken of her fondly."

"You didn't answer the question, Nyssa." Sarab pointed out, "Are you  _certain_  that you are Rh-negative, as well as an O- blood type?"

"I am," Nyssa said truthfully. "It was in A.R.G.U.S' file on 'Nyssa Raatko' when I discovered it. I don't know how it was there, but the only explanation is that  _they_  had recovered my blood from  _somehow_  - a mission, perhaps. I learned the truth there."

Sarab sighed in relief, "Good, we have to approach this  _very_  carefully. How much water from the Lazarus Pit do you suspect is in the vial?"

Nyssa frowned, "Well, I would  _estimate_  that it was less than or equal to 250 mL."

"That's  _not_ good, but it's better than nothing. You see, Oliver is estimated to have about 9 to 10 pints of blood in his body when healthy. One pint equals a little over 470 mL."

"So, this vial isn't going to do  _much_ ," Nyssa concluded sadly, staring at Oliver's corpse, wishing that her father had given her at least a pint of Lazarus liquid.

Sarab shook his head, "I  _didn't_  say that. We have both seen your father heal a large gash with minimal exposure to the Lazarus Pit. Oliver has  _many_  injuries even without the…  _hole_  in his chest and his crushed larynx." His features grimaced and Nyssa feared what he was about to say "I've realized that his spine is probably shattered. When I had loaded him onto the cot, I noticed a large pinching between his nerve root canals in his spine, and fragments of what looked like  _bone_  jammed up against the skin. Because his spinal cord is broken, the  _highway_  is essentially closed." He seemed to become frantic, rubbing a hand over his face, "Nerve impulses, the nerve cells themselves are damaged! Then they  _can't_   _get through,_  the messages wouldn't be able to travel back and forth between the brain and the rest of the body! He would be plagued by paralysis, the loss of mobility and sensation - paralyzed!" He quieted and tilted his head, "Actually, there are  _two_ pathways in the spinal cord. One which communicates  _from the brain_  to the body and the other communicating from the  _body_ to the  _brain._  If the former happened, he would be paralyzed. But, if he's lucky, the pathway from the body to the brain would be damaged. If that was the case, then without the nerve pathway, his brain would not receive pain  _and_  temperature information, effectively rendering Oliver unable to feel pain of  _any kind._ "

Nyssa's eyes widened, "Well, it's better than being paralyzed, but," She grimaced, "if that happened, he could break his arm or leg and not realize it. Just because one cannot feel an injury, doesn't mean that it can't kill you."

Sarab nodded and after several moments, suddenly rolled Oliver over, shocking her.

"What are you  _doing?"_  She exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

Sarab grunted, "Checking to see," He said vaguely and Nyssa reluctantly kept herself from stopping him. After several moments, after his fingers had poked into Oliver's back, Sarab frowned and rolled Oliver back over. He then prodded Oliver's diaphragm, features paling.

"What is it? What's wrong?" She demanded urgently, anxiously.

He wet his mouth, "From the fall, at least one of his vertebrae in the center of his spine broke. Then it seemed to have punctured his diaphragm." He motioned her over, "You can  _feel it._ See for yourself." Nyssa replaced Sarab's fingers with her own and applied pressure. She frowned when she didn't feel anything except hard muscle. "Press harder," Sarab instructed and she did.  _There!_  Her face pinched as Sarab was  _right._  She could literally  _feel_  Oliver's broken vertebrae  _inside_ his diaphragm.

" _Am kabirat min…_ " She breathed out, horrified. After several seconds of swallowing her shock, "We need to be cautious about how much exposure we gift his wounds with the liquid." She glanced at the wound that had killed Oliver and gestured towards it, "Most, if not all, of the vial will need to be used for  _that_ and his spine."

"You're right," Her companion nodded, fingers ghosting over the wound before they abruptly pulled away as if burned, "His right lung is completely collapsed and  _part of it is missing_  - I assume from the fall. It's going to  _take a lot_  to heal that, maybe even all of the vial. Then, we would need to use the rest, if there is any, on his spine."

Nyssa frowned, features scrunching together. "What about his larynx?" She asked shakily, unable to keep her eyes from gazing at the  _gruesome_  sight of Oliver's crushed voice box. She didn't feel better when Sarab winced, features contorting with sorrow.

"When I was an agent for A.R.G.U.S, I had received much medical training. Based on what I can discern, Oliver, if he had survived the fall, would long since be dead - before we had found him - from the crushed voice box. You can  _actually_ see his torn mucosal - the innermost gland of the neck that produces a sticky mucus that protectively  _coats_  the inner lining of one's trachea and catches any unwanted debris when one inhales air before it reaches the lungs." Sarab pointed at Oliver's neck, "The way his throat is mangled shows  _severe_  mucosal damage. Besides that  _major_  wound, from what I have been able to see from the area surrounding his trachea, his airway is acutely compromised, and his vocal cords seem to be immobile. If we manage to revive him, after we use most, if not all, of the vial on his lung, chest wound,  _and_ spine, we  _might_  be able to heal the mucosal, but  _that's_ it. He'll most likely require a stent - a metal or plastic tube that is inserted into the throat to keep the larynx and trachea open."

She swallowed and felt the beginnings of tears well in her eyes, emotions brimming inside her in sympathy. He had truly  _suffered_  in his final moments in this world, more than she could have imagined, yet he had spent them staring at  _her_ , apologizing for his mistakes. Despite her best efforts, a single tear slipped down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away before Sarab noticed. "Once he is revived, is there any treatment that could… help him?"

"If we were at A.R.G.U.S.," Sarab began, "we would do a tracheostomy - a small incision on the anterior aspect of the neck and an opening, via another incision, that would direct his airway through the trachea to allow for adequate breathing. Then, there would probably be a surgical repair and then a stent would be inserted."

Nyssa shuddered and contemplated what would happen if they called off their treacherous actions. What if they let Oliver die in peace? His body was now beyond broken, and he could no longer be haunted by his life, his history, his  _actions._  He was at peace. Should they leave him be?

"I don't know if I can go through with this." She admitted quietly, the words floating in the air, mocking her.

Sarab grimaced, pain carved into every pore of his face. "I know, but my eyes have been opened recently, and I have begun to see! I have made a mistake in pledging myself to Ra's Al Ghul. It took the death of my wife to see that. I want to be free of his influence like  _you_  do, but there is no man who walks this Earth who can defeat him."

"Damien Darhk?" She raised a brow, surprised that Sarab didn't believe that her father's greatest rival could defeat him.

He shook his head, "No, Darhk is a  _novice_  in combat compared to Ra's Al Ghul - a weak man who compensates for his incompetence by relying on magic. Nevertheless, the  _only_  man who can defeat Ra's Al Ghul is Oliver Queen. If either of us is  _selfish_ enough to bring Oliver back, that is our  _only_ chance to be free from your father."

"And what if Oliver is at peace? What would he want?"

Sarab clenched his jaw, "I want my friend back," he whispered, the words snapping through the cabin like a gunshot, "Oliver will get over it."

Nyssa nodded because she, despite her reservations, agreed. Oliver would understand - he had to. "Shall we alert his…  _team?_ " She asked half-afraid that Sarab would want to. Although she had tried her best to  _tolerate_  their presence, the only one whom she felt a true connection with, out of any of the members of 'Team Arrow', was Oliver himself. Even though Laurel was Sara's sister, Nyssa had a feeling that Laurel blamed her for Sara's journey into the League, and thus, her  _death._

"Not yet," Sarab said slowly, relieving Nyssa, "We have  _no idea_  if they had even known that Oliver was battling Ra's Al Ghul. Also, I doubt that they would be very…  _cooperative_  with our methods of healing him. We will revive Oliver,  _heal_  him and then  _he_  will decide what to do."

She nearly sighed aloud in relief but suppressed it. "How do you want to begin? Do you want to try to heal his soul, then we use the vial?"

Sarab adamantly shook his head, "No, his body  _has_ to be revived before I can heal his soul." He frowned, "We have to be most conservative with the vial. It is imperative that we are  _paranoid_."

"Okay, then we need to decide which injury is graver: the lung and chest, the spine, or the crushed voice box and neck."

"Obviously the lung and chest, and then the spine." Sarab's tone was the closest to one of scorn that she had ever heard, " _That's_  what killed him - the lung and chest. If there is, in fact, 250 mL in the vial, then I propose that we put aside 15 mL for the neck and  _that's_ it. The other 235 mL will be for his chest, lung, and spine."

Nyssa pursed her lips and after a second of hesitation, bobbed her head. "Alright, I don't see any other outcome. …Is there  _anything_   _else_  that could help heal him besides the Lazarus Pit water or Soultaker?"

Sarab seemed to hesitate before he answered, and Nyssa  _knew_  that there was another method. " _Mirakuru_  would be invaluable in bringing him back."

"You mean the drug that Sa- …Ta-er al-Asfar often spoke of." She breathed out, horrified by the thought of subjecting Oliver to that kind of torture. From Sara's words, it had turned Oliver's brother-in-arms, Slade Wilson, into a monster, into someone unrecognizable. It had warped his mind. She had seen the effects firsthand when she and several League members had aided Oliver in Starling City against the enhanced army.

"Oliver shared its abilities with me in Hong Kong five years ago." Sarab said quietly, "It's regenerative capabilities were unparalleled, second only to the Lazarus Pit itself. But we regress because Oliver had said that he had destroyed all of the serum on Lian Yu."

She raised a brow, " _But_  last year, Ta-er al-Asfar requested aid in Starling City against a Mirakuru-enhanced army. I was  _there_  and killed several. It was true."

Sarab nodded, "I know, but it doesn't matter. If Oliver had stolen some of the new serum, which I suspect that he did, he obviously didn't use it on himself  _and_ we don't know where it is at."

"Even if  _we did_ , I don't think that I would want to subject his body and mind to the serum."

"We're losing time!" Sarab suddenly sliced his hand through the air dramatically, rising to his feet, fury flashing over his face, "Ra's Al Ghul might have sent more assassins to 'aid' us in locating Oliver's body. It's only a matter of time  _when_  they find us! We  _need_  to stop debating and start acting!"

Nyssa nodded, knowing that his grief was beginning to warp him. "Of course, you're right." She placed a gentle hand on Oliver's unmoving chest, "Let's get started."

Sarab reached to his waist and pulled his League-commissioned sword out of his scabbard and replaced it with Soultaker. "We'll need this  _close._ "

She stood up as well, grabbing the vial of Lazarus Pit water. "Since, in my mind, the spine and lung and chest injuries are of the same magnitude severity-wise. I propose that we add a drop of the liquid to each, one and then the other, one and then the other, and so forth."

"Agreed, but we'll need to make an incision over his spine to allow for direct access. We can't  _waste a single drop_."

"This is our  _final_  opportunity to change our minds, Sarab," Nyssa said quietly, seriously. "We  _cannot_ go back once the process has begun."

Sarab glanced at her, "I don't want to go back."

"Neither do I," Nyssa whispered and without further doubt, she tipped the vial, allowing a single drop to fall into his exposed lung.

Oliver Queen's resurrection had begun.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The night sky was dark and it howled mightily, rejoicing in its time away from the sun. Staring up into the darkness, Diggle wondered if his friend was staring down at him from Heaven. Although he was the only one of the team who hadn't attempted to stop Oliver from fighting Ra's Al Ghul, because he knew that it was hopeless to try,  _especially_  since it had involved Thea, he was more than aware of the likelihood that his friend wouldn't return.

It had been over a week, almost two since Oliver had left.

His optimism had begun to fade and give way to grief because, deep down, he  _knew_  that Ra's Al Ghul had killed his best friend. He hadn't shared his conclusion with the rest of the team, specifically Felicity, but he knew that sooner or later, the revelation of truth would enter their minds with the sloppy precision of a drunk surgeon.

It was a hard pill, the  _hardest_  to swallow. Oliver Queen had been the greatest man he had ever known, the toughest, most resilient. He was a  _survivor._  Oliver had triumphed over Lian Yu, Malcolm Merlyn, and  _Slade Wilson._  In Diggle's mind, his friend had seemed invincible. He had placed Oliver on a pedestal of unprecedented skill and willpower. His friend was a hero above all others, a hero whom  _other heroes_  strove to emulate.

Now, he had begun to wonder if he had been blinded by the  _idea_  of Oliver's actions and crusade. Their last conversation replayed in his mind and something stood out above all others. His friend's eyes were dark,  _deadly_ , yet they were conflicted. Those eyes were the eyes of the Hood, the eyes of the vigilante who had killed criminals indiscriminately, cleansing Starling City of the  _scum_ , and it was the eyes of the Arrow, the hero. Clearly, Oliver was unsure of who he was supposed to become to defeat the Demon's Head. Furthermore, those eyes had held  _fear_. Oliver had  _already known_  that facing Ra's Al Ghul was complete and utter suicide, but to save Thea from Ra's wrath, he did it anyway. Sometimes, Diggle forgot that Oliver was even human. The man had never shown fear before in his memory, but when it came to Ra's Al Ghul, he was  _deathly afraid._  Had Diggle become so  _blinded_  by Oliver's 'Arrow' persona that he had forgotten about Oliver Queen, the  _person?_

"What are you thinking about?" Lyla's voice echoed in his ears and Diggle turned around, smiling softly at the sight of his lover carrying their daughter.

He gently pulled Sara from Lyla's arms and kissed her gently on the forehead. He stood there for several moments, the tension growing until he couldn't stand it any longer, "Oliver's dead." He whispered, the words floating in the crisp, night air like a curse.

"What?" Lyla's eyes widened, "Johnny, you  _don't know_  that!"

"But I do, and I think that  _you_  know as well." He countered softly, "It's been almost two weeks since Oliver departed to fight  _Ra's Al Ghul_  and he didn't tell  _any of us_  where it was he was going. It pains me deeply, more than anyone could guess, to admit it, but Oliver's gone."

Lyla swallowed and tears welled in her eyes, "I'm sorry," She wrapped her arms around his back and Diggle gratefully fell into her embrace, letting his own tears spill down his cheeks. "What are you going to tell the team? Tell Thea, his  _sister?"_

Diggle shuddered against his lover, "I don't know," He choked out, "I can't delay it no matter how  _much_  I want to.  _Malcolm Merlyn,_ " He spat the name out with such poisonous loathing that he surprised himself, "has blinded her to the truth. He's  _manipulated her!_  He drugged Thea to kill Sara Lance."

Silence.

"You need time to mourn, Johnny," Lyla's soft voice brought him out of his misery, "but so do  _they._  You're a soldier, you always have been. Your brother-in-arms has been…  _killed_  and you  _must_  give him his proper rights."

He shook his head slowly, "I don't know how to do that, Lyla. The city needs to be protected from this Brickwell bastard  _and_  I have to deal with Laurel dressing up and playing hero…"

"The city and Laurel can  _wait_ , my dear." She brought his lips to her gently, "Come to bed, and we'll discuss this tomorrow."

Diggle was helpless to resist his lover and he gratefully followed her into the bed, losing himself in her body, releasing his deep-seeded sorrow, his  _grief._

XxXxXxXxXxX

Nyssa grimaced, beginning to feel lightheaded, feel  _weak_  from the blood transfusion. Her eyes followed the blood,  _her blood_ , entering Oliver's arm and she  _truly_  hoped that he would soon be revived. She didn't know how much longer she could donate her blood. She was afraid that she would soon pass out if she didn't stop.

For the past several days, they had delicately begun the process of resurrecting Oliver. Nyssa had been relieved when the vial had been able to last long enough for a few drops into Oliver's crushed throat.

The hardest part had been healing his lung. Because of the large exit  _and_  entry wounds, she and Sarab had both manually inserted the drops of Lazarus liquid into his lungs and bones and muscles. It had been hard work but, eventually, they had been able to fully heal his lung and the muscles surrounding the wound, watching as cellular regeneration commenced, creating new tissues. Sarab had been relieved that they hadn't used all of the vial, for he had been afraid that they would be forced to. He had revealed that the lungs were easily one of the most complicated organs of the human body. He had told Nyssa that the lungs were more than just simple tubes and pipes. Precious epithelial cells lined them, containing specialized hair, or cilia as he had said, which helped to trap particles and prevent infection from reaching the lungs. To her surprise, he had also mentioned that the cilia helped to push foreign and waste matter out of the lungs when necessary.

They had decided not to heal Oliver's skin, saving the precious liquid, agreeing that once he was revived, his body would be able to naturally heal and they would rather him scar most  _heavily_  than waste the vial.

Nyssa had made a small incision into Oliver's diaphragm, removing the shattered pieces from his vertebrae. Then, with a single drop, almost all of the heavy damage in the diaphragm had healed.

Then, to her surprise, the spine had been rather simple. Based on Sarab's explanation from earlier, she had expected the opposite. Through several small incisions, she and Sarab had been able to find the shattered parts of his spine, removing them, and with the aid of the vial, were able to meticulously release small droplets unto the broken areas.

Before both of their very eyes, the vertebrae had  _grown_ , stretching to fit its intended place. Bundles of nerve fibers  _grew_  out of seemingly nowhere and Sarab had commented that without those nerves, Oliver would have been paralyzed. He had also said that his nerve pathways, the highways were in peak condition and that they didn't have to worry about any damage.

Then, once his spine was suitably healed, they moved onto the crushed larynx with only several drops remaining. They hadn't been able to heal everything, not even close. Rather, they had done what they could, fixing his throat as best they could with their limited resources so a stent wouldn't need to be put in, but once Oliver was resurrected, there would be physical evidence of his severe injury.

Now, for the past hours, she had watched the trickle of her blood as it was transfused into Oliver. Sarab had wrapped Oliver's chest, forearm - which she had forgotten about, and it was  _very_  deep. He probably would have bled out from that laceration alone - and his spine, the incisions that had allowed them access.

Sarab had fallen asleep on one of the small chairs while Nyssa continued the blood transfusion, refusing to stop until she  _knew_ that she would die if she didn't.

Suddenly, to her shock, Oliver's chest stuttered several times, and then it moved slowly up and down, an inhale and an exhale. Nyssa's fingers rushed to his neck and she smiled when she felt a weak thud against her skin.

Oliver Queen was officially alive.

She gently removed the needle from her vein and quickly wrapped it, keeping soft but gentle pressure on the bandage. Nyssa grabbed a roll of tape, and with her teeth, ripped off a strip to tape across the bandage, keeping it in place.

She then slipped the needle out of Oliver's arm and placed it on the wooden table, eyes riveted on Oliver's moving chest. For over a week, she had become accustomed to the sight of his unmoving chest, pale white skin gleaming against her eyes painfully. But now, with his wounds wrapped, his color had returned, almost an angry red. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't remove her eyes from his now-alive body. She leaned closer and gently ran her fingers over his chest, amazed at the  _warmth_  permeating throughout his body when it had been so deathly  _cold_  only a couple of days ago.

She sprang back when Oliver's lips suddenly moved not quite soundlessly. To anyone else's ears, the sounds would have been imperceptible, but she was an assassin. The words were practically inaudible, but Oliver  _was speaking._ She glanced at Sarab whom was still slumbering and slowly, hesitantly moved her ear over Oliver's mouth, trying to hear what it was that he was saying, hoping for something,  _anything._

" _Wàn shì kāi tóu nán."_  The words were almost soundless, but they were recognizable to Nyssa. When he continued to whisper, she knew that once he awoke, he would forever speak in a whisper. They had been unable to heal his vocal cords much, only allowed to use a  _single drop_  from the vial.

She leaned closer until she could feel his breaths puff against her ear, " _Wàn shì kāi tóu nán."_  The same words and she finally realized that he was speaking Mandarin.

She frowned because she didn't speak the language but she did know that Sarab himself did. She would ask him what it meant later.  _"Ne narisuyte svoy luk, poka vasha strela ne budet zafiksirovana."_  Her eyes widened as he started murmuring in Russian and she identified the proverb that her  _father_  had often spoken to her as a child. 'Draw not your bow till your arrow is fixed.'

When she was a young girl, she had been shocked that her father had even spoken Russian, but she suspected, now that she was older, that her mother had hailed from Russia and  _that's_ why Ra's Al Ghul ordered tutors for Nyssa to learn the language. She was the only League member, save her father, who was fluent in Russian.

" _Anzuru yori umu ga yasushi."_  She had no idea which language he had just murmured, but to her untrained ear, it sounded almost the same as Mandarin - it was probably Japanese or Cantonese.

Now, she was unabashed, curiously leaning over the table, ear pressed almost directly on Oliver's mouth, her dark hair falling around his face like a curtain.  _"Cría cuervos y te sacarán los ojos."_  He whispered  _hoarsely_  and Nyssa quickly grabbed a canteen of water and gently,  _most gently_  poured small sips of warm water down his maimed throat. Then she grabbed a different canteen and tenderly released small droplets down his throat. It was a mixture of a crushed betel leaf, multiple tulsi leaves, and honey. She remembered Sarab's words,  _'You must be careful, Nyssa. Just because the most dangerous part is over doesn't mean that there isn't any more danger in helping his body simply heal. No matter how long it takes, you must, and I repeat you must keep him hydrated. Because we didn't have much Lazarus Pit water, there are still many toxic chemicals wreaking havoc inside his body, running rampant because his immune system was compromised. By keeping him hydrated, these toxic chemicals will be flushed out of his body in, most likely, a drenching sweat. Use warm water and also this mixture - it was Tatsu's remedy for throat infections for… Akio.''_

Nyssa slowly removed the canteen from Oliver's lips and was relieved to see that he had swallowed the liquid without protest. She placed the container on the table and was content to look over his now-breathing body, making certain that his body wouldn't suddenly shut down.

For several more minutes, she silently stared down at him, catching a few different words from different languages. She would freely admit that she was simply fascinated that he,  _Oliver Queen_  knew more languages than  _she herself did,_  the daughter of  _Ra's Al Ghul,_ because during his coma, he had spoken in more than six languages.

"Thea." The name suddenly slithered into Nyssa's ears with shaky, imperfect clarity, shocking her that she had been even  _able_  to barely hear it from the distance between her and Oliver's mouth, but she sighed in relief, knowing that Oliver was  _still Oliver_  if he remembered his sister's name.

She pulled back, lowering herself onto the couch next to the table and began to finally relax. Oliver would wake soon, and with his awakening, Ra's Al Ghul's days in the land of the living would become numbered.

XxXxXxXxXxX

**That's all for this chapter, everyone. I really hope you all enjoyed it. Leave a review and tell me what you think!**

****Maseo reveals his history with Oliver to Nyssa. I think that if Nyssa was able to understand parts of Oliver's journey, she would come to respect him even more than she does. Also, it would help her understand Maseo's motivations for what he is doing.**

**I was honestly expecting Soultaker to have more of an impact in the show in Season 3. When it barely got mentioned, I was shocked. I have thus taken the liberty to include it in this story.**

**And by the way, name-day is the same as birthday. I liked the idea of the League having a different title for the day of one's birth.**

****Nyssa and Maseo discuss Oliver's injuries. Okay, in the show, it was utterly ridiculous how Oliver's 'resurrection' was handled. All Maseo said was that Tatsu brought Oliver 'back to life' but it isn't revealed how. Most people seem to believe, from what I've read, that Oliver was still alive at the bottom of the ravine after Ra's Al Ghul had kicked him off the mountain. That's completely** _**illogical,** _ **in my opinion. Oliver's throat was** _**crushed** _ **, he was stabbed through the chest, resulting in, at least, a collapsed lung, and his forearm was almost sliced off. Those injuries are** _**very, fatally serious** _ **.**

**Also, that fall was at least a thousand feet. The speed in which Oliver would have smashed into the rock would have more than likely shattered every bone in his body. Since I couldn't do that, I just did his spine. As a result of his numerous injuries, Nyssa and Maseo are unable to fully heal him and there will be repercussions for his body in this story until if or when he is ever exposed to Ra's Al Ghul's Lazarus Pit.**

**In the comics, Oliver has Rh-negative blood, so I incorporated it into the story because I couldn't find if the show had ever mentioned his blood type. I know it was kind of cheesy to write Nyssa having the exact same blood type and Rh-negative blood, but I couldn't think of a conceivable way whence Oliver's blood** _**wouldn't be a problem.** _ **Without blood, no human would be walking this world and it's essential for someone to live. Oliver had lost more than half of his body's blood, and he desperately needed a donor willing to provide him with a jumpstart.**

**I think that's it. If you have any question, I'd be happy to answer them to the best of my ability. I hope you all enjoyed it! I'd appreciate it if you left a review and tell me what you thought!**

_**Stay Safe  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** _**Arrow** _ **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** _**Arrow** _ **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

Pain. Pain.  _Pain!_

The man suddenly gasped, lips parted in a silent scream, eyes squeezed shut, hands animalistically clawing at his chest, his back, his throat,  _everywhere!_  The agony was intense and  _overwhelming._  He was powerless against the relentless waves that battered against his mind with the force of a tsunami.

He suddenly felt a swift and  _terrible_  rage swell within him, howling in his heart. He threw his head back and tried to roar out his hatred, but  _immediately_ regretted it as  _scorching_  agony seared his throat, spittle spraying across his mouth as he gagged breathlessly. The metallic taste of blood quickly became fixed in his mouth.

He thought that he heard something, a voice perhaps. Who was there? Where was he? What was happening to him? What  _had_ happened to him? Why was there  _so much pain?_  Was he alone? If not, who was in the room with him? The man demanded all of those questions silently, the pessimistic answers echoing in his mind, mocking him until he felt sick. His eyes were still shut as if they refused to be bombarded by the light.

He  _needed_  to stay in the dark.

The dark was good. He could hide and not face the harsh reality of  _life._  The moment that he opened his eyes, the light would blind him with the truth of whatever had happened to him. The man couldn't bear it - he needed the comfort of blessed ignorance. He began to thrash as his thoughts were jumbled, the mists obscuring everything until all that remained was the mind-warping rage. Somehow, that emotion felt familiar, and he latched onto it, basking in the feel of  _something_ recognizable to his spinning mind.

Abruptly, an arm gripped his shoulder, and shoved him back onto the table, the wood scraping against his spine, shooting white-hot flashes of pain through his rage-filled mind - it was an attack!

Whether it was the contact with his apparently injured spine or the frustration and rage that had mounted in his mind for the past seeming eternity, the man didn't know. The only thing that he knew was that he had to respond, and his response was instinctual.

Without thought, his eyes snapped open, adjusting to the dim-lighted room effortlessly. His hand, of its own accord, shot up and wrenched the hand clasping his shoulder off, feeling bones quiver; simultaneously, he rose from his flat position and, still holding onto the hand that had hurt him, bent it downward, twisting it counterclockwise in one violent, brutal movement without mercy. A short cry of pain echoed victoriously in his ears as the wrist  _snapped,_  but he didn't care; all that mattered was his survival.

Then, his hand wrapped around the throat of his attacker, squeezing mercilessly, knowing that in only a few seconds, his assailant would become unconscious. A petite, olive-skinned hand clawed at his wrist, but it was useless. He was stronger, but as a result of his attacker's determination, the man's eyes darted upward.

And then he saw the face who had dared to attack him - a woman! It was a most attractive, beautiful face set in a perfectly-shaped head, pitch black, slightly wavy hair framing her countenance, full lips parted under the strain of his grip. Her hypnotic eyes were riveted on him, equal parts fear and relief glowing in her stare. The man did not know the face, but the face clearly knew him.

His grip loosened  _slightly_  as he heard something behind him, "Oliver,  _zúgòu ràng tā zôule!"_ The man turned around immediately after someone else - a male, easy to distinguish by the strength of the arms - abruptly gripped his neck from the rear - a chokehold!

The man released the woman from his grasp and tried to swing around, but the grip was too strong! With a scream of hysterical rage, he smashed his left fist into his attacker's pelvic area behind him, then he bent forward, gripping the elbow to the right of his throat. The man abruptly lurched to his left; his attacker was lifted off the ground, legs spiraling wildly in the air as he was thrown into a table, the sound of wood breaking followed his attacker's journey to the ground.

Suddenly, the woman leaped at him, one fist and both knees trying to pummel him, as she screamed at him, her other hand laying limply against her side. "You're  _okay!_  Snap out of it, Oliver.  _My tvoi druzya, kotoryh ty znaesh."_

Somehow, he understood what she had said even though two different languages were uttered, but he  _couldn't stop!_  And they weren't his friends. He had to escape from the mists! He had to do  _something_  to make it stop! Ward off the pain! And he had found his therapy, his  _reprieve_  from the unbearable pain.

Again, he didn't know why, but rage swelled inside him, coursing through his body with adrenaline. Somehow he knew that if he stopped, the pain would return with its soul-crushing intensity. He didn't want the pain!

Without thought, the man viced the fingers of his hands together, swinging his arms upward like a hammer, narrowly missing the woman's jaw as she backed away at the  _last second._

"Please,  _stop this!"_  She cried out as the man advanced, uncaring about her pleads for mercy. "You know us and  _we know you!_  We're…  _friends_ ,  _Oliver!"_  The man blinked at the name 'Oliver'. He had heard her and the male say it earlier. Was that his name? Was his name... 'Oliver'?

Upon that thought, he paused, not able to move as he found himself frozen, lips parted. He heard the name float in his mind and the echoes erupted into cracks of deafening thunder. With each  _crack,_  pain jolted through him, bolts of agony searing continuously into his head. His mind and body recoiled under the onslaught of racing images. That name being spoken by others - multiple men, women, and children!

" _Jie Chú tā de lí nhún, dài huí céngjīng de yang zi."_  He heard the attacker - the male! - rise from the destroyed remnants of the table, but he could do nothing as the mists had fully drowned his mind and the images of people now flashed before his eyes, stalling him in time, completely helpless to the threat.

Then, the man gasped quietly, pain shooting through his throat, as agony crippled him. Oddly enough, it didn't feel like his body had been affected, but rather, it was his mind and  _soul_  that were paralyzed from the pain.

The mists were clouding his vision, but not before he saw the glowing green sword sticking through his chest, puffs of thick smoke wafting off of it. His eyes became heavy and the darkness was beckoning with its loving, tender arms, and the man welcomed the relief.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Nyssa stared wide-eyed at Oliver's collapsed body, form heaving strenuously, a thin stream of blood drooling out of his mouth. Her eyes were drawn to Sarab's sword, Soultaker jammed through Oliver's chest. "What are  _you doing?"_  She demanded in shock, "We don't have anymore Lazarus water! You'll kill him!"

"Don't worry, there will be no  _physical injury._ " Sarab murmured vaguely. "I'm healing his soul. I hadn't expected such a…  _reaction._ "

The daughter of Ra's Al Ghul warily approached, tenderly rubbing her bruised throat, wincing as waves of pain shot through her nerves. "Just as long as he doesn't attack us again." She looked down at her broken wrist, dangling uselessly at her side. "Did your wife have any…  _wraps?"_

"Check the cabinet, there should be some in there. Hurry up," he grunted. "I don't know how long that I can continue this." With a start, Nyssa noticed the beads of sweat rolling down Sarab's forehead.

She nodded and quickly gathered the supplies, wrapping her wrist tightly, already knowing that no swelling would occur. The thick, black cloth, after several minutes, covered half of her forearm and just past her thumb. "He didn't recognize us," she said aloud, shuddering from the memory of the look in Oliver's eyes when he had choked her, the look on his face.

Cold and immaculate rage glowed in his dark, deadly, bulging eyes. His face was muted in perfect symmetry, a snarling mass of monstrous fury. His look had been fierce and animalistic and  _black_. It was a look which, if made into deadly action, could flay the skin from bone, able to relentlessly chew down until the delectable, sweet marrow was found.

"I know," Sarab whispered, his devastation at his friend not recognizing him tangible, suffocating the air.

Her eyes closed and she remembered.

_A stuttering gasp sounded, and Nyssa, who had been reading a book, jerked her head towards Oliver's body. The resurrected man was twitching, hands curling into fists. Her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet, book forgotten for her attention was riveted on Oliver's body._

_For the past weeks, she had nursed his body in its healing process. Many a time, she had had to witness the sweat pour out of his body in drenching waves, purging the 'death' from his body._

_Names passed from his lips unpredictably, waking her in the night from her position next to Oliver's body as he mumbled about Thea, Nyssa herself, Diggle, Laurel, Sara, a woman named 'Shado', Slade Wilson, Maseo, Akio, Anatoli, and finally, most shocking of all to Nyssa, Talia._

_The name of her long, exiled sister filled her with many emotions._

_Her father had, in rare displays of emotion, revealed to Nyssa, when she was a child, of his firstborn, of the daughter he did not want, of the girl who should have been a boy._

_Talia had been obstinate in the face of Ra's Al Ghul's disdain. She aimed higher and higher in regards to pleasing the Demon's Head. Eventually, Talia became desperate after many years, so very desperate that she had willingly committed one of the vilest crimes in the eyes of their father._

_Only a year before Nyssa's mother became her father's concubine, Talia had laid with a married man, bearing him a son, and had had the audacity to present the bastard to Ra's Al Ghul, proclaiming that the heir he so coveted was finally in his grasp._

_Nyssa remembered the fury in her father's ancient eyes blazing like fire itself, seeking to burn everything and everyone in its path. She had been horrified, wondering why her exiled sister would fall so low, would disgrace her maidenhead, would disgrace their father._

_Talia's confidence had been short-lived for the wrath of Ra's Al Ghul descended on her like a tidal wave, roaring with tenacity and precision._

_The mother was separated from the son, exiled from Nanda Parbat, banished from death itself as every time she sought to kill herself to end her emotional agony, Ra's Al Ghul's loyal Shadows would heal her with Lazarus Pit water, forcefully keeping her from death's sweet release._

_The bastard had been given to its father for not even the Demon's Head, for all his legendary fury, could order the death of an innocent baby, one that carried his blood._

_Nyssa had learned from her sister's mistakes and never sought her father's ire. Eventually, upon meeting Sara, Nyssa had begun to hate her father. Rumors, for several years, had swept through Nanda Parbat, reaching her ears that Ra's Al Ghul was planning to wed Nyssa to one of her father's horseman. She couldn't believe it! How dare he force her into a marriage with one whom she wouldn't love!_

_Sara had been her way of rebelling against the Demon's Head and follow in her exiled sister's shadow, seeking Ra's Al Ghul's wrath. Despite her own fury, Nyssa had never dared to allow her maidenhead to be taken by Sara or anyone else._

_Although she admired her elder sister and the courage it had to have taken to flout Ra's Al Ghul's command, Nyssa refused to become exiled and shamed like Talia._

_She, despite knowing it was pointless, wanted her father to be proud of her._

_A snarl suddenly screeched through the air and Nyssa, blinked in shock, unable to move as Oliver began to sit up, eyes closed but hate was carved into his features, warping his handsome features into one of malignity._

_A rush of adrenaline flooded her body and Nyssa darted across the expanse, pushing Oliver back down on the table, ignoring the pure heat searing against her skin, the furnace that death had shaped Oliver into._

_Before she could react, Oliver's eyes snapped open and she knew immediately that something was wrong. In a blurred motion, Oliver yanked her hand into his own grip and broke her wrist._

_Pain exploded throughout her hand, causing a yelp to pass her lips at the unexpected pain and situation. Without any time to defend herself, Oliver snatched her throat in a vice-like grip, fingers harshly digging into the delicate skin. She desperately clawed at his hand, thrashing against Oliver, but it was useless. His grip tightened if at all possible, and Nyssa had the feeling that she was going to be seeing Sara soon._

_Then, his fiery eyes snared her own and whatever breath Nyssa had had remaining, swiftly vanished upon gazing at the monstrous man before her. Oliver's full lips were curled back into a hateful snarl, a display of feral savagery. His beard was long, much thicker than the 'scruff' he normally had. He looked like an ancient, blood-lusted warrior._

_A small petal of relief bloomed as she realized that despite her current, life-dwindling situation, their plan had succeeded, and Oliver was alive! It didn't matter that the monster holding her over death's abyss was wearing Oliver's face. All of those names that had fluttered past his lips the past weeks assured her that the man who had fearlessly challenged her father was still in there._

_Darkness was edging through her vision and she had no regrets except missing the moment when her father would die by Oliver's hands._

_Suddenly, Oliver's grip loosened and Nyssa greedily inhaled the divine substance of air, heaving in gulps as she watched Sarab hold Oliver in a chokehold. An animalistic screech of fury tore through Oliver's mouth, undoubtedly injuring his throat even further, and broke out of the chokehold and flung Sarab across the room, the sound of wood and glass breaking echoing._

Nyssa blinked slowly, the memories dispersing like fog, and turned around, facing Sarab as he pulled the glowing, green sword out of Oliver's chest without a mark or sound. It was as if  _nothing_  had torn through his chest. "I wish I could say that I was surprised." She said quietly, "From what you've told me, that sword only works on his soul, who he  _truly is_. Whereas the Lazarus Pit heals his body and, can in some specific situations, warp minds." She left the fact that Oliver's mind had been warped unspoken.

After several seconds, Sarab spoke, "I'm relieved that he's awake - well, he  _was._ " He corrected, "It has been a month since  _the duel_."

"He still had to heal," She said simply, "All the wounds that we weren't able to heal have scarred. Also, I believe he might have injured his throat when he had screeched." She closed her eyes as the memory of the  _inhuman screech_  that had pierced through the cabin air like a starving babe.

"Then we will give him more time to rest," Sarab whispered, pulling Oliver's unconscious body back on to the table.

And when death no longer claimed part of Oliver's soul, Nyssa would ask him of Talia and gather if the woman he had whispered was her older, banished sister.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The taste was bitter, and looking down at the bottle, Thea Queen wasn't surprised. It was a Cabernet Sauvignon, a gift from her father. It was his  _attempt_ to cheer her up, but it had only made her more miserable with the more that she drank. She missed her brother terribly since his trip to Bludhaven more than a month ago. Every once and awhile, Oliver would disappear for weeks at a time. One time, before their mother had been  _murdered,_ when she had confronted him about it, he had reluctantly revealed that sometimes he just needed to simply  _get away_  from Starling because it was the opposite of the island.

Fascinated, because he  _never_ shared  _anything_  about  _the island_ , Thea had asked him what he had meant. Oliver then revealed that he oftentimes missed the island in many ways because he was the  _lone occupant_ of the island for years and he had grown used to the atmosphere, the pure nature, the  _peace_. Whereas Starling City was filled to the brim with  _everything_  and sometimes he said that he couldn't deal with it. She honestly couldn't  _imagine_  what it must have been like for her brother, stranded on a deserted island for  _five years._

She still didn't understand how Slade Wilson, the  _bastard,_  had fit in with the island, but she had researched him, concluding that that monster had never lived on the island with her brother as he had hinted at. Public records had shown that he was in Australia for the whole five years that Oliver was 'away' from home.

Now, standing on the balcony, elbows crossed over the ledge, she had concluded that drinking wine would be the best remedy for her affliction of sorrow. Musing silently, she realized that she truly  _was_  her mother's daughter. During Oliver's time when he was declared dead, a lot of the time when she had returned home from school, she had often found Moira Queen sipping from a chalice, a large bottle of expensive wine on the table to her right.

Her brother had left for Bludhaven at a  _very_  inopportune time. Lately, for the past two months, since the week or two before Oliver had left, she had been traumatized by nightmares. Every night, it was the same vision.

Sara Lance, someone whom she liked to believe was her friend, was standing in front of her, several yards away, and Thea then, for some  _inexplicable_  reason, shoots her friend's body full of arrows, killing her, watching dispassionately as she fell off of a roof.

Thea has been afraid to close her eyes for weeks now, afraid that she would see Sara's vindictive, condemning eyes. She had no idea  _why_  she was being tortured with these nightmares, but she was truly afraid of what it meant.

Perhaps she should reveal her terrors to her Malcolm, but she didn't want him to think she was a failure.

Her father had taught her how to  _survive._  He had taught her how to fight, to kill a man painlessly, taught her the ways of the sword, fine-tuning her skills with the bow and arrow.

Part of her hated the person whom she had become, but the other darker part thrived from it, feeling as if she finally had power. For so long, she had had to live under the colossal shadow of her brother and Robert Queen's death. Then once her brother was rescued, everyone flocked to Oliver, yearning to hear his story.

Then Roy had accepted her for who she was when it seemed that nobody else did. She had loved him, probably still did, but then he had betrayed her. During the strongmen raid, she had found his vigilante gear. He  _worked_  with the Arrow, dressed in a red outfit.

Then, after her training from her father and her return with Oliver to Starling City, the Arrow had broken into her apartment, looking as terrifying as she remembered from the time when she had been kidnapped after the Glades' destruction.  **"Thea Queen,"**  his voice had boomed like thunder and she had cringed, feeling flashes of fear resonate in her heart. She had crouched down to the floor, mind racing,  **"where is…** _ **Malcolm Merlyn?"**_ He had growled out, and Thea had, to her uttermost shame, quivered in place, desperately trying to find the inner strength inside her that her father had brought to the surface.

After a moment, she had answered, feeling slightly calmer. "I- I… don't  _know,_ " she had played the role of a terrified young girl and it was a lot easier to fall into that role than she  _ever_ wanted to admit. She had genuinely been afraid. "Please,  _please_ , I beg, don't hurt me!" She had cried, truly hoping that the Arrow wouldn't hurt her. He was a large man who towered over her, face one with the darkness of his hood.

She remembered the anger that had suddenly filled her at that moment, mocking her as she was afraid, just as she had been before she was reunited with her father. Who gave the Arrow the right to break into her apartment and question Thea about her father? She found all her fear replaced by a terrible rage.

She had instinctively tossed several shards of glass at him and then leaped forward, attacking him with  _everything_  that her father had taught her, his instructions guiding her.  _'Attack swiftly and be sure to aim for crippling points. If facing a man, you never want to be within reach of his arms. Duck and weave your way through attacks, using your wit to your best ability. Also, fighting dirty is never frowned upon when it comes to someone whom you cannot best. It's a matter of survival, my daughter. Use your surroundings to your advantage. If you know the terrain, you win the fight. Remember, Thea, everything is a weapon. Not just your fists and sword. A television remote, a glass plate, a cell phone, a phone charger, even sleep itself. Anything, I repeat because it is imperative that you know this, anything… is a weapon.'_

She had thrown everything that she had had against the Arrow, but it was more than apparent to her that he wasn't even trying, rather toying with her like a predator might their prey. She was  _more than_  outmatched, and she wasn't even certain that her father could defeat the man. Realizing that she couldn't  _hope_  to defeat the monster, she had grasped her chance when she saw it.

The Arrow had simply, effortlessly sidestepped away from one of her most devastating attacks and she had snarled at him, "Stay away from  _me!_  And  _my father!"_  Then she had leaped out of the window, dropping to another railing, and then another, and another until she had reached the ground.

When she had told her father about the incident the day after, his voice had darkened, a sliver of shock intermingling. He had then quickly reassured her that she had  _nothing_  to worry about and that he would take care of it.

The Arrow had been  _gone_  since that night and Thea was relieved to know that her father had been able to kill him, ridding them of the threat.

All would seem right for her except that Oliver was gone  _and_  she continued to be haunted by visions of Sara dying by her hands.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Diggle followed behind Felicity and Roy as they entered  _Verdant_ , making sure that nobody was around for the inevitable screams of rage and despair. Today was the day that he had decided to finally confront them and reveal his concerns that Oliver had perished against Ra's Al Ghul.

After many conversations with Lyla in the past weeks, Diggle had realized that the team had to know as soon as possible. If not, it wouldn't be healthy for either him or them.

It had been over a month since Oliver had left to battle Ra's Al Ghul.

He followed them around the corner and he almost bumped into them when they abruptly stopped. Diggle then saw the open door to the lair, adrift by only a few inches but it was more than noticeable because that door was built by A.R.G.U.S and only five people in the world knew the combination to unlock the thing.

Felicity stumbled forward, peaking into the darkness, "Oliver?" She called out hesitantly while Diggle was frozen in pure relief.

If it was known that he had doubted that Oliver was alive, confronting them about his concerns and then Oliver himself showed up, dissuading that belief, he would  _never_  forgive himself. His best friend, his  _new_ brother was alive! Diggle had been wrong! He had never been happier to be wrong!

Roy pushed him forward, "Come on!" He hissed and Diggle nodded gratefully. They both followed Felicity down the stairs, calling out Oliver's name, their shouts becoming more confident the further they descended.

Diggle raced around a shelf and felt his heart plummet because standing in front of the light, body thrown into a monstrous shadow, Malcolm Merlyn was dressed immaculately. Diggle immediately pulled out his gun, finger wrapped around the trigger, aching to pull it. Felicity and Roy's face were carved with the devastation that Diggle himself felt, but wouldn't let it show.

"Could you put the gun away? They don't scare so much as  _annoy me._ " Merlyn drawled, his voice carrying large amounts of charm and arrogance, but it contained an apathy that Diggle had  _always_  been wary of, and he still was. In response, he swiftly pulled out his other gun, both weapons aimed at Malcolm Merlyn, the safeties flipped off.

"Oh, I can think of something that would not whatsoever fill  _me with_ annoyance." He growled out.

Merlyn raised an eyebrow in amusement and raised his arms in a mockful gesture of surrender. He then sat on the end of a table, perched like a predator, looking like he belonged. "I've  _only_ come here to talk. Now, would it be at all  _possible_  to do that? If I had wanted to hurt or kill any of you, you would  _all_ already be dead." He said it so seriously, so nonchalantly, so  _honestly_  that Diggle knew that it was the truth.

"Talk about what?" Felicity snapped, arms crossed over her stomach vulnerably. Diggle put away his weapons, recognizing that Merlyn  _did_ just want to  _talk._

"Oliver." The name left Merlyn's lips smoothly, floating in the lair's air with the weight of a mountain, "I need to know: is he still alive?" If Diggle wasn't mistaken, Merlyn's face was anxious.

"He's  _alive,_ " Felicity said  _immediately_  and too strongly. Diggle felt his own features frown and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roy grimace, eyes shutting slowly.

Merlyn nodded in seeming understanding, but Diggle knew that the man was utterly unconvinced by Felicity's declaration and he watched as the father of Oliver's sister tilted his head to the side, "Have you heard from him since he went off to battle  _Ra's Al Ghul?_  Perhaps, a message of  _any kind?_ "

Diggle closed his eyes as the truth was staring them  _all_  in the face; he couldn't look away because he had already known, deep down, in his gut.

Felicity's breath stuttered, "He's al-alive." The pure desperate confidence in her voice made him wish that he had already told her the truth.

Merlyn's mouth thinned, displeasure carved into his face. He slowly rose off his perch, "If he were, indeed,  _alive,_  I suspect that you would have heard from him by now. It's been over a month. You're doing all of yourselves a disfavor, making it  _harder_  by holding onto your  _delusions_."

Roy's fists clenched and Diggle saw his eyes flash, "Unless Ra's took him prisoner."

Merlyn scoffed, the sound snapping through the air like a gunshot. "The  _Demon's Head_  does not take prisoners, Mr. Harper." He stepped past them and Diggle, without thought, reached out his arm fully and snagged the man's arm. Malcolm Merlyn became  _deathly still_  and Diggle swallowed, suddenly recognizing that he shouldn't have done that, but at the moment, he didn't really care.

"You did this," he hissed, leaning closer into Merlyn's face. "If you weren't Thea's father, I would  _kill you_   _right now._ "

"You would  _try,_ Mr. Diggle, and you would  _fail_." Merlyn raised a brow challengingly, "I was  _Ra's Al Ghul's_ horseman. Do you know what that means? Do you know whoI was, who I had become?" He turned to fully face him and Diggle dropped the man's arm, "What it means is that I was chosen by  _Ra's Al Ghul_  himself because of my immense skill and strength, my ability to endure  _pain._  I, beyond any other save his daughter, was his greatest follower and it was I, Al Sa-Her, the horseman for the  _Demon's Head,_ who killed many dozens of fools who sought to undermine my master's will. _Everything_ that I have done, I've done for the benefit of those whom I care about, and believe it or not,  _Oliver_   _is_  one of those few precious people."

"Liar!" Felicity hissed and pointed her finger at Merlyn, jabbing him in the chest before Diggle or Roy could react, "You are a selfish  _bastard!_ To think that you drugged your  _own daughter into killing Sara!_  You killed 503  _innocent_ people! Among them,  _your own son - Tommy!_ The day that you  _die_ will be the day that all  _evil dies!"_

Diggle's eyes widened in dread when Felicity uttered Tommy's name. No matter how  _much_  he hated Malcolm Merlyn, he would  _never_  use his dead son's name as a weapon. Felicity had just crossed a line that once you cross, you couldn't uncross it, especially when dealing with a man like Malcolm Merlyn, one of the most dangerous men whom Diggle had ever met.

Merlyn's face crackled, veins in his neck pulsing as rage swiftly rippled across his calm face. Suddenly, he lashed out, and before either Diggle or Roy could react, snatched Felicity by the throat, yanking her towards him. "Ms.  _Smoak,_ " He said quietly and Diggle swallowed. There was  _nothing_  that he or Roy could do to help her. If either of them tried to directly attack, Felicity would die and then Merlyn would, inevitably, make short work of them. Diggle couldn't use his pistols because Merlyn held Felicity in front of him like a shield. "I would  _love_  to kill you right now, but this is my favorite suit. I would  _hate_  to stain it with  _your blood_ , your disgraceful, weak, common blood. Yes, I did drug my daughter to kill Sara Lance, but that was for  _our_  benefit; benefits that an imbecile like  _you_  could never comprehend. The Glades frankly deserved it,  _Ms. Smoak._  They were infested with scum-like, marketplace  _trash_. Because of my Undertaking, look at what has arisen in the place formerly known as the Glades. Despite Daniel Brickwell's attempts to sink that hellish part of the city  _back_  into what it once was, he will fail because I have  _cleansed_  that area of evil, replacing it with  _death_ , as my master had taught me years ago _._ You are too  _short-sighted_  to understand," He leaned closer to Felicity, features now completely calm, but his dark eyes showcased his true feelings. "but you know what? Oliver  _does_  appreciate the  _benefits_  of my…  _courageousness_  to undertake such a grand plan. He and I are quite alike in many ways. He's the son who I always wished was  _mine._ So,  _yes_ , Ms. Smoak. I did kill all of those people in the Glades, and I do have to admire your audacity to say it to my face.  _But_ ," The hate  _roiled_ through his features, making Diggle shiver, "my son, despite being a grand disappointment, was of my blood. No matter his immense shortcomings, I  _loved_ him fiercely." He let go and shoved her back into Roy, who caught her gently, rubbing her shoulders as tears spilled down her cheeks, a dark red handprint stained onto her throat.

"You  _bastard,_ " Diggle hissed, fists clenched as he desired to  _pound_ into Merlyn's poised, sophisticated face.

Merlyn merely shook his head and calmly walked up the steps, "That's the problem with society nowadays, Mr, Diggle." He called out, voice echoing, "It's become too  _soft_ , too stagnant, and above all,  _too arrogant_." The door suddenly shut and the three were left alone.

After several minutes, Roy eventually swallowed, "He's right," he said quietly, "I  _hate_  to agree with the man, but he's right." Pain flashed in his eyes, "Oliver is-"

"No!" Felicity whirled on him, "How  _dare you_  say, even  _think_  something like that! Oliver's  _alive!"_

Diggle sighed heavily and leaned against the table, "No, he's…  _not_ , Felicity." He watched sadly as his friend turned to him, eyes blazing with betrayal, "It's been  _over six weeks._ He's  _gone._ I'm  _sorry_." He felt tears well in his eyes as he thought of his friend's extraordinary, hardship-ridden life snuffed out by the hands of Ra's Al Ghul.

"We all wish he weren't," Roy said softly, the words echoing in their ears.

"No,  _John! No,_  both of you! _"_  Felicity cried out, features colored dark red with emotion, matching Merlyn's glaring handprint plastered across her delicate-looking neck. "Oliver is- … he's  _stronger_  than Ra's Al Ghul! He'll return, you'll see! All of this drama with Brick  _trying_  to take over the city and Laurel dressing up in a costume will be fixed the  _moment_ when Oliver comes back."

Diggle closed his eyes and tried to control his grief-raged emotions, not wanting to yell at his friend, but she was making it  _very_  difficult. "Felicity, if you truly believe that he's still alive, then where is he? Where has he been for the past month and a half? Why hasn't he sent a message?" He asked quietly, staring at her sadly.

Her features paled immediately and he was genuinely concerned that she might faint. Her lips parted and then closed, quivering in place as devastation became carved into her features.

All was silent except for Felicity's heavy breathing.

She swallowed after several moments, "You're  _wrong,_  both of you! And when Oliver returns,  _and he will_ , he'll be so disappointed  _and ashamed!_  I'm going to -  _no, I will_ prove you wrong." She stormed out of the lair, high heels clicking against the floor loudly.

The door opened and then slammed shut painfully, leaving the two men alone. Roy breathed deeply after several moments, "Well, that actually went…  _better_  than how I had thought it would potentially go."

"Yeah, me too. I expected gut-wrenching screams and slaps." Diggle admitted, watching his friend's protégé.

Roy picked up a tennis ball, "Something's been bothering me lately."

"What is it?"

"I think- …Felicity is…" he trailed off, features grimacing with discomfort.

Diggle placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'm willing to lend an ear if you ever need one."

Roy licked his lips, "I think that Felicity has become…  _obsessed_  with Oliver. I think it's kind of like Carrie Cutter - or Cupid. It's not to the same magnitude, but  _something_ just isn't right about her and Oliver."

Diggle blinked and nodded slowly, uncertain where Roy was leading the conversation, "There has always been tension between them."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Dig." Roy turned to him, "Since Slade's Mirakuru-enhanced army attacked, things have been  _different_. Felicity has changed and Oliver has as well. And both aren't whom they're supposed to be. I think the catalyst was when Oliver used Felicity's feelings for him to trick Slade."

He frowned, "Yeah, but that was so that-"

"Then, they decided to  _try_  things out, Dig. We both know that it was a disaster."

"They had both thought that the city was safe and no huge threat would arrive." He pointed out, "They had finally decided to-"

"No!" Roy winced, "I'm sorry, but it's different! I hate to compare it, but how I love Thea is different than whatever Felicity feels for Oliver and vice versa. I would do  _anything_  for Thea even though we aren't lovers anymore, no matter how much I wish we were. If need be," He grimaced, "I would slice off my  _dick_  to save her life. I feel sad when she isn't around me, and happy when I simply talk to her. Every time I picture my  _future,_  Dig, I think of  _Thea_." Roy peered up at him, "Can you honestly tell me that you think Felicity feels like that about Oliver or he about her?"

Diggle stiffened and swallowed, wetting his suddenly dry mouth. "No," he whispered after several moments, admitting that Roy was right.

The truth was blinding.

Roy seemed satisfied, although unhappy about his revelation, and sat in a chair, "I do have to agree with Felicity though. It's  _hard_  to know, to even imagine that Oliver is  _gone._ "

"I know, man." Diggle was thankful for the change in the subject even though it was a grief-filled one. "Oliver has always been the… the strongest man whom I've ever met. To be honest, I've had it stuck in my head that he  _couldn't die._  It didn't even seem possible."

"He fought against multiple, dozens of  _Mirakuru-enhanced_  men without a scratch, against  _Slade Wilson,_  but this Ra's Al Ghul guy can kill him?" Roy said quietly, "I don't understand."

"Me neither, Roy, but Ra's Al Ghul is on a  _whole_  higher  _tier_  of menacing peril. If even  _less than half_ of the stories I've heard are true, he makes Slade Wilson  _and_  Malcolm Merlyn  _both_ seem like mere kittens."

Roy shivered, "Damn,"

"Yeah," Diggle murmured, eyeing the box that contained the Russian Vodka. He strode over and grabbed the box, flipping it open with a snap of his fingers. He grabbed the bottle, feeling the smooth glass, and poured them each a small shot of the liquid. "Oliver used to do this with me, but he hasn't for a long time." He handed Roy a shot.

"Okay, then what?"

"We'd toast each other and say 'prochnost' which means strength in Russian." He raised his glass, "Prochnost,"

"Prochnost,"

Diggle smiled mournfully, "To Oliver,"

"To Oliver," Roy shuddered and downed his glass as a Diggle did the same.

He felt the vodka burn down his throat pleasantly, leaving a sizzling trail. "He may be gone, but he will  _never_  be forgotten." He swore to do his friend's memory proud and do  _everything and anything_  he could for Thea, to get her away from Merlyn's poisonous grasp.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Through his numerous contacts, it was fundamentally simple to keep his daughter from discovering the little side 'trip' he had taken at the last minute. After finalizing his agenda with his mistress, the maid whom he had hired upon his return to Starling City, a lovely, lust-filled girl who was more than willing to  _clean up anything_ , he had departed immediately.

He had to be sure!

Musing silently, Malcolm  _knew_  that without Oliver Queen, all of his meticulously-designed plans would be for naught. Without the man who had nearly,  _most nearly_  ended his life over a year ago, Malcolm's fate would be forever sealed.

Ra's Al Ghul wanted his head and Malcolm, better than most, knew that what the Demon's Head wanted, he received without trouble.

Because of that, along with other factors, Malcolm had drugged Thea, his strong, proud daughter into murdering Sara Lance, the lover of Oliver  _and_ Nyssa.

The Head of the Demon's daughter would not rest until Sara's death was avenged and Oliver, once realizing that  _Thea_  had killed Sara, would kill Nyssa Al Ghul to protect his beloved sibling, focusing Ra's wrath upon  _him_  instead of Malcolm.

Then, with Malcolm controlling everyone's strings like the ultimate puppet master, Ra's Al Ghul would let it be heard to anyone and everyone who would listen that Oliver Queen, the Arrow, was to be killed, allowing Malcolm the time necessary to coerce his daughter to vanish with him.

Because of Oliver's 'visit' to Thea as the 'Arrow', Malcolm had been forced to change his plan. He showed his daughter's brother the video and watched the  _hate_  boil in Oliver's dark eyes. At that moment, Malcolm  _knew_  that if  _anyone_ could ever kill the Demon's Head, it was Oliver Queen.

Unfortunately, Malcolm hadn't foreseen a possibility whence Oliver would fail, would lack the strength necessary to keep Thea safe.

Malcolm knew that, honestly, he hadn't  _allowed_ himself to ponder the outcome whence Oliver died by the Demon Head's blade because if he did, the realization that his life, along with Thea's, were forfeit for Ra's Al Ghul would destroy him.

After Malcolm had revealed Thea's crime to Oliver, he had waited patiently for a week for the man whom he thought of as his son - a  _true,_  strong son unlike Tommy; one he was immensely proud of - to return triumphant and rage-filled, narrowly quelling the urge to kill Malcolm.

When a month had come and passed, Malcolm knew the inevitable truth, knew the hope-shattering realization.

Ra's Al Ghul had killed Oliver Queen.

Hiking up the mountain, Malcolm allowed himself to let a single tear fall in honor of his daughter's brother, of the man whom Malcolm had respected more  _than anyone_ in his life.

He didn't feel remorse or guilt because he  _knew_  that Oliver would have done the exact same thing in his position, but he  _did feel_  numb. Malcolm had failed because he had placed his unrealistic, naive expectations upon Oliver.

Ra's Al Ghul might have ended Oliver's life, but Malcolm had  _killed_ him.

It was not a fact that he relished.

Pulling his mask further into his face to shield from the frigid wind, Malcolm finally recognized the sacred area, the area where those who challenged Ra's Al Ghul died.

A blood-stained sword was embedded in the ground by the cliff, the snow, and wind leaving it untouched as if honoring the fallen warrior.

Malcolm closed his eyes in sorrow for himself, for the plans that he had had, and for the life he so desperately yearned for.

Everything, all the momentum that he had built after the Undertaking, after his narrow escape from death, vanished, leaving him hollow and weary.

The thought of his useful daughter caused his heart to elevate. How could he tell her that her beloved brother, the man who she adored more than anyone, including Malcolm himself, was dead? How could he tell her the truth?

Malcolm clenched his jaw, feeling his gloved-hands tighten into fists, the leather crunching. He plucked the sword from the ground with much effort, knowing that he should, at the very least, allow Oliver's 'team' to mourn properly.

It's what Malcolm had been able to do after Rebecca's death under Ra's Al Ghul's calm watch, so he would give Oliver's disciples the same precious gift.

He inched closer to the edge of the cliff, narrowed eyes searching and seeking. All that was visible was a dense, white fog. He looked away, knowing that Robert's son had fallen through that fog, had died through that fog.

Malcolm Merlyn closed his eyes in grief, knowing that now would be the  _only_ time to mourn for the man who was more of a true son to him than Tommy ever was.

Despite their differences, and despite the fact that Oliver had nearly succeeded in killing him  _and_ ruining the Undertaking, Malcolm had held the utmost respect for Robert's son unlike his disdain for Tommy.

Tommy, his soft and unwilling disappointment of a son, had held him at gunpoint after his grand Undertaking had begun. Malcolm had been thoroughly repulsed at the sight of Tommy's heartbroken eyes, of the sheen clouding their depths.

That night, Malcolm had  _wanted_ Tommy to kill him, yearned for it more than anything. It would have proven that despite his immense failures, Tommy was Malcolm's son, a true heir to his name.

But Tommy had chosen his often-wandered path of disappointment.

Tommy was a shame to Malcolm's name, to his blood. It didn't matter that his love for his son was authentic, was as real as it had been for Rebecca. To bear an heir as weak and sickly-determined as Tommy had been was completely and utterly inexcusable to Malcolm. That's why he had been proud to know that Thea carried his blood. Despite her being a woman and thus, a weaker heir than what Malcolm desperately yearned for, he was unashamed to call her his daughter.

Now, looking at the blood-stained sword, Malcolm found himself fantasizing that Oliver had somehow been his son and heir instead of Thea or the weakling that Tommy had been. His plans would have already been implemented and the world would be  _better_.

It didn't matter though because Malcolm's actions had killed Oliver, the heir that he ached for.

Now the truth glared down at him, and he was unable to look away. Ra's Al Ghul would come for he and Thea, claim Malcolm's pledged soul as his own. Honestly, Malcolm had known it the moment when he realized that Oliver had died.

Soon, he would stare into the dark abyss and witness all of his deeds laid bare, all of his sins  _punished._

His time in this world was nearing its end; he knew it as certainly as he knew that the sun would brighten the sky in several hours.

The wind snapped against his exposed eyes painfully, forcing him to retreat, thoughts of his imminent demise plaguing him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

**Well, that's all for this one. I hope you all enjoyed it.**

****Oliver awakens** _**changed** _ **from death and attacks Nyssa and Maseo! Every time I envisioned the scene, I always loved the idea of Maseo and Nyssa being forced to 'calm down' Oliver. If anyone believes that Nyssa was 'beaten' too easily, I would disagree. She wasn't going all-out because she didn't want to kill Oliver** _**and** _ **it has been proven multiple times that Oliver is stronger, faster, and more skilled than Nyssa Al Ghul. Plus, she was caught off guard.**

****I did change some things concerning Talia's character and history, but I think that it works. Ra's Al Ghul is at** _**least** _ **200 years old and he was raised in an era when women were** _**not** _ **treated… fairly. As the saying goes, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Ra's is stuck in the past, and during that time, a woman's virginity was as precious as treasure. One's maidenhead determined the** _**purity** _ **of a potential bride and if she could bear strong sons. I honestly believe that Ra's would think that way - and it was hinted at in the show several times.**

****In case it wasn't obvious, this is in** _**no way** _ **going to be an Olicity story. I** _**despise** _ **their 'love' because it honestly, realistically makes no sense and Felicity's character is just…** _**the worst.** _ **Even before all of the Olicity bullshit, I didn't like her character, and now I'm completely disgusted by her. No disrespect to the actress, but the character is one of the most inept-written I've ever seen. Based on the show's history, the way that she reacted in my story is a more-than-plausible scenario. Her emotions constantly,** _**consistently** _ **cloud her judgment grievously.**

****I hope everyone liked the glimpse into Malcolm's thoughts. I was never a fan of how Malcolm was such a 'wimp' before Rebecca's death. To me, before the tragedy, he would have had a certain coldness to him, a cunningness that most didn't. If any disagree with me, that's totally fine and I respect your opinion.**

**I think that's everything. If you have any questions, just ask!**

_**Stay Safe  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


	4. Chapter 3

**To answer questions about the resurrection: I thought of it as a three-way circuit - the mind, body, and soul. Without one, the circuit becomes** _**wrong** _ **and the person becomes feral, resorting to their base instincts. The Lazarus Pit works on the body and mind, while Soultaker deals with one's soul.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** _**Arrow** _ **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** _**Arrow** _ **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

Awareness crept through him gradually, like a blanket slowly being raised away from one's weary body. The remnants of perpetual darkness faded, leaving only a renowned sense of loss.

Oliver's eyes spasmed open and he breathed slowly, feeling his throat tingle, almost shuddering from the force of air.

He was lying flat on his back, eyes hazy as he stared up into the wood-filled ceiling.

Memories bombarded his mind, the battle against Ra's Al Ghul, Malcolm's deed, Nyssa's acceptance of his apology, and the  _terrible cold._

He licked his dry lips and swallowed, ignoring the pain of the act, and called out. "Hello?" He suddenly gasped in agony, feeling his throat close as waves of searing, scorching pain tore through his throat with abandon.

His eyes snapped shut tightly, jaw clenched tightly, teeth grinding against teeth in agony. The pain was intense and overwhelming, although nothing compared to the horror of the  _Red Death_.

A cool hand suddenly held his shoulder gently, "Just slowly, so ever slowly  _breathe, Oliver._ You're safe."

He calmed himself, recognizing the voice but he couldn't necessarily place it; everything in his head was too convoluted, too chaotic.

Once his eyes opened again, they were riveted towards Nyssa Al Ghul's hypnotic ones. He, to his hazy mind, noticed how differentshe suddenly seemed.

She didn't seem weighed down, bearing the weight of something _._

"I don't know if you'll believe me, but it  _truly relieves me_  to see your coherent-lighted eyes again." She said softly, smiling ever so slightly. "Speak in a whisper if you wish to speak; it will ease your pain."

Oliver blinked drowsily, deciding not to fight her. He was so tired. "Okay," he whispered, relief filling him when no pain whatsoever assaulted his throat. "How… am I alive? I know that your father…  _killed me."_

"He did." His eyes slowly connected with Maseo's dark, relief-filled orbs. His old friend's boots resounded in the room and he saw Nyssa throw a quick glance towards Oliver's chest for some reason.

"Maseo,  _what_ have you done?" Oliver croaked, wondering if he was alive because of the  _Mirakuru_. Just like Slade had survived an arrow through his eye into his brain! How did they get their hands on it? It was all destroyed! He began to panic, wondering  _when_  he would turn into an unrecognizable monster just like Slade, his brother-in-arms, the man whom Oliver would have done anything for except tell him the truth about dear, kind, gentle Shado.

Nyssa's calm hand on his shoulder kept him from moving further. He tried to struggle but it was useless - he was  _weak._ "Oliver, what stories have you heard of my father? About his  _power?"_

Oliver frowned and his chest ached, the cold from the mountain surrounding him with tenacity. He shivered and huddled into himself. His throat protested but he answered in a cracked whisper. "They say that Ra's Al Ghul is immortal. 'There has always been a Ra's Al Ghul and there always will be a Ra's Al Ghul. As eternal as the stars in the sky, Ra's Al Ghul bears witness to all. His eyes and ears expand across the world and there is no place where he can't find you.' He's the most dangerous man on Earth and…" he broke off, no words passing his lips for his throat forbid it.

"Yes, those stories are true, but not for the reasons you think," Nyssa said gently, sympathy flashing in her hypnotic eyes. "There are waters in Nanda Parbat, my father's fortress and  _my home_ , that has permitted my father to live well beyond his time - he is over two-hundred-years old, closer to three centuries old. Ra's Al Ghul always exists because he is, in a way, reincarnated into his new vessel upon the previous Demon Head's demise." Oliver blinked and processed the information. After everything that he had witnessed in the past years, he wasn't as surprised as he ought to have been. He saw Nyssa dangle a beautiful vial with swirling lines of gold in front of him. "This vial was a gift from my father years ago. It was filled with Lazarus Pit water. The reason you are alive, Oliver, is that of  _this._  Sarab and I used all of it to heal you as best we could. Your throat though," she grimaced and clenched the vial, "will forever be maimed. A whisper is all you will be able to speak, and even then it will fatigue you." She closed her eyes in shame. "I'm sorry."

Oliver shook his head, glancing at Maseo for a moment. His friend's eyes were glazed and he had the feeling that Akio dominated his old friend's thoughts. With a burst of strength, he gripped Nyssa's hand and her eyes snapped open in shock. His intense eyes snared her own, " _Thank you_  for saving my life, Nyssa."

She swallowed and her lips curled into a small smile, "You're welcome, Oliver."

"There was also another reason for your resurrection, my friend." Maseo suddenly said, "My eyes have been opened, and I  _finally_  see. It was a grievous error to pledge my life,  _my soul_  to Ra's Al Ghul. The only way I can be free of his grasp is for someone to…" he inhaled deeply and his eyes darted to Nyssa's form. "kill him."

Oliver's eyes involuntary snapped shut and the  _cold_  pierced his body with the accuracy of a master, the ancient eyes of Ra's Al Ghul commanding it to do so. The memories of his death, of the sword brutally tearing through his chest flashed before his closed eyes.

Nyssa's voice pierced through the haze, "Oliver, I'm sorry that we brought you back only to force our agenda to your much-needed attention, but you are the  _only_ person on Earth who can kill my father." His eyes opened and he was surprised to see the shame coloring Nyssa's eyes. "Sarab and I are both most selfish," she said quietly.

"Regardless of the reasons," he said firmly in a whisper. "I am alive and I owe you both my life.  _Thank you_. I must ask, though: why do you want your father dead, Nyssa?"

She bit her lip briefly and straightened, the look of a warrior flashing over her beautiful features. "My father is not a father as is defined by most of the world. He is, for lack of terminology, my master. There is  _no love_  that exists in my heart for him and I'm  _certain_  the same could be said for his feelings about me." Oliver nodded in understanding and saw Nyssa try to suppress the  _hurt_  from crossing her eyes. "I wish, above anything, to be free of my father's colossal shadow and sight, his all-knowing stare."

Oliver gingerly rubbed his throat in reflection over her words, dimly noticing that his beard had become very thick. His hair was also longer, as well. He sat up straighter, "How much time has passed since," he grimaced, " _the fight?"_

"Just under two months, my friend," Maseo said softly, the words reaching Oliver's ears with the precision of a surgeon. "Nyssa and I have been watching over you ever since, monitoring your sweat-drenched body and remaining ever-vigilant. We have encountered several Shadows that were sent by the Demon's Head and killed them accordingly. Nyssa herself killed most of them without hesitation to  _save you,_  Oliver."

The Queen scion stared at Nyssa who looked almost uncomfortable if he wasn't mistaken. He had known that Maseo, Sarab or not, would be loyal to him and aid him, but he had had no inkling that Nyssa would be so crucial, so helpful. He felt…  _touched_  by the care she had obviously given him the past two months, by the fact that she had killed her fellow League Warriors for  _him._

Their eyes connected and Oliver conveyed his thanks and apologies for ever doubting her, the absolute trust that he now placed in her. She blinked and looked away. Oliver quickly sought to defuse the potential tense atmosphere. "What else can you tell me about your father? There has to be  _someone_  else who could defeat him." He spoke in a whisper, the fear beginning to poison his mind. He couldn't battle Ra's Al Ghul again.  _He couldn't!_

Nyssa nodded in relief, a smile flashing across her face before it was gone. "There is a prophecy, more than one actually, that my father has been obsessedwith ever since I can remember."

"Why?"

"They pertain to the League and mention his heir."

Oliver frowned and slowly sat up, ignoring the pain splintering through his body. "You'rehis heir, his own daughter."

Nyssa smiled bitterly and Oliver was struck by the intense sadness that shined in her beautiful eyes, "My father desires a worthy  _male_ heir above any woman, regardless if she is of his own blood. He has  _never_  considered me his true heir despite his choice to allow me to claim myself as the Heir to the Demon."

Oliver cautiously grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed it in hopes of comforting her. "I'm sorry that your father cannot see what's right in front of him." Her eyes locked into his own, "You are a deadly warrior whose skills are undoubtedly barely-rivaled. Ever since I met you when Sara had run away from the League, I have  _always_  been in awe of your deadly grace, your unmistakable aura of control and precision. You  _are_ a worthy heir to your father's throne, but he is too blind to see it."

Nyssa's face was blank but her eyes were wide. Quickly, her features spread into a small, yet genuine smile. "Thank you, Oliver, but be that as it may, my father is correct. The League of Assassins  _must_  be led by a strong, powerful, prodigiously-skilled, and deadly man. I would be lying to myself and any who would listen if I told you that I was any more than  _one_  of those. When you first awakened, you effortlesslyoverpowered me despite my greatest efforts to escape. If anything, thatproved to me that  _you_  are worthy, Oliver; besting one who has the blood of Ra's Al Ghul in their veins."

Oliver's eyes widened, " _Wait_ , what? What are…" he trailed off as images blurred before his eyes. The blank mind, the overwhelming rage, the hand wrapped around a throat, the sound of bones breaking, and the  _pain_.

"You remember," Maseo said softly, and Oliver saw, in his mind, his friend being flung into a table.

Oliver swallowed, "Yeah, I do." His eyes darted to Nyssa's neck and her wrist, "I don't know what I was doing. It was all a blank canvas, warped by rage.  _I'm sorry_  that I almost killed you."

Nyssa raised an eyebrow, "I've tried to kill you, you've tried to kill me, so let's call it even."

He smiled slightly in relief and remembered what they  _had_ been talking about, "You mentioned a prophecy?"

"The first prophecy was uttered by my father's predecessor upon his death. He cemented Fate itself when he said ' _He who survives the sword of Ra's Al Ghul will become Ra's Al Ghul.'_  Only hours later, upon my father's rebirth as Ra's Al Ghul, the Shaman's eyes became black as night and her voice was as ancient as Nanda Parbat itself. My father always told me the words when I was a child. They stated:

_His aim is true and it will never quell._  
_His incessant blows clashed like ringing bells.  
_ _He faced the end and the truth as he fell._

_Rising from the cold hands of death, he came.  
__From the Demon's blade, he survived his maim.  
_ ' _A worthy heir' Ra's Al Ghul will proclaim._

_An inheritance beyond a treasure,_  
_He becomes the most worthy successor,  
_ _And hailed above he who is most clever._

_The Demon's daughter cemented the path._  
_Her home shall face the true immortal's wrath.  
_ _The Ring will be key to thwart the bloodbath."_

Oliver closed his eyes, "And the other one?" He asked in a whisper.  _Rising from the cold hands of death, he came. From the Demon's blade, he survived his maim. 'A worthy heir' Ra's Al Ghul will proclaim._  Those words echoed in his mind, the brilliant, blinding truth staring him in the eye, and he was unable to look away.

He was destined as Ra's Al Ghul's heir, the Demon's Head himself, the most dangerous man to walk the Earth.

"Several years before I was born, my father had tasked the Shaman in Nanda Parbat to meditate, seeking out the ancient energies of the world, requesting an omen for the future of the League of Assassins. For days and nights, the Shaman meditated unwaveringly without food or drink until on the eighth night, she was seized by a dark power similar to when my father was reborn and spoke these words:

_The fortress will smoke underneath the moon._  
_The rival will hear the tramp of his doom._  
_He'll flee from his place to die in disgrace  
_ _Beneath the night sky, beneath the impugn._

_The wind will come from the sky frigid cold,_  
_Like an ocean, it will be uncontrolled._  
_The fallen will groan, the fortress will moan,  
_ _And League blood will be shed upon the mold._

_Ra's Al Ghul will descend unto his hall,_  
_Under Nanda Parbat, mighty and tall!_  
_His foe has faced the end, his once-best friend,  
_ _And for eternity his foes shall fall!_

_Time will pass on from the West to the East;_  
_Movements from loyal Shadows will have ceased._  
_But hitting its long mark across the dark,  
_ _The critical tidings will be released._

_It will pass the ears of loyal Shadows bare,_  
_And sweep through the Head of the Demon's lair:_  
_Their death to conquer will lay great honor,  
_ _And flying arrows will blaze through the air._

_The arrows will leave the bow and take flight_  
_Over the eternal seas of the night._  
_They will carry great sail upon the gale,  
_ _And the Fates will bless with radiant light._

_The Demon's Ring once again will be freed._  
_The worthy heir, the summons must show heed._  
_His ire will be more destructive than fire,  
_ _While legions of Shadows follow his lead._

_The swords will be most keen and the spears long,_  
_The arrows fly swift while the men are strong.  
_ _Their hearts will be fierce for their blades to pierce;  
_ _The Shadows no more shall suffer a wrong."_

Oliver inhaled sharply, twitching as his throat protested, but he ignored it. "Well, those are certainly beautiful and foreboding." He said quietly, "It said 'the Demon's daughter has cemented the path.' What do you think that means, Nyssa? You apparently have chosen, or will choose, to do something that…" he trailed off, waiting for her answer.

Nyssa frowned and crossed her arms, "I would say that I cemented the pathwhen I chose to aid Sarab in his quest to resurrect you. That's my best guess."

"Again, I thank you for your decision, Nyssa." Oliver's whispered words were filled with gratefulness.

She smiled and he was taken aback by the rarity of the sight, of the radiant, deadly beauty she exhibited.

"Why would Ra's Al Ghul seek to destroy his own fortress?" Maseo asked suddenly, black eyebrows pinched together. "Why would Nyssa's choice to join my betrayal cause Ra's Al Ghul-"

Nyssa interrupted, "It wouldn't," she said simply. "My father would  _never_  try to destroy Nanda Parbat,  _his fortress_."

"Well, then  _who_  is another immortal?" Oliver asked quietly.

Maseo glanced at Nyssa, "Why would Damien Darhk care if you agreed with my plan and helped?"

"He wouldn't, either," Nyssa frowned and looked at Oliver, "Damien Darhk was trained alongside my father in the League centuries ago by my father's predecessor. They were his horsemen, molded into unstoppable warriors the likes of which the world had never before seen. When my father was deemed 'heir', Darhk was outraged and fled for fear of his life, stealing waters from the Lazarus Pit and loyal followers. For the past centuries, he has vexed my father ever since. I suspect the second prophecy, at least the beginning, is referring to him. It pretty much says as much." Nyssa almost seemed excited, "'Ra's Al Ghul will descend unto his hall. His foe is dead, his  _once-greatest_  friend.' My father, during the rare times when he has spoken about Darhk, revealed that they were as brothers, loyal to one another absolutely before the former Ra's Al Ghul declared my father his heir."

"But he would fit perfectly for your decision, your chosen path, Nyssa." Maseo urged, "Damien Darhk wants Nanda Parbat destroyed, his loyal hive of followers have said as much when they have been captured and interrogated by your father. Oliver is destined, since it was mentioned in  _both_  prophecies, to be your father's heir," Oliver shot Nyssa a look of apology and was relieved when she nodded, "and Damien Darhk could see it as history repeating itself. One who believes themselves to be worthy of being the Heir to the Demon, but they  _weren't_  the ones chosen.  _That's_  why Nanda Parbat will face  _his_ wrath."

Oliver furrowed his brows, "I'm sorry, Maseo, but that doesn't make sense, at least to me. The prophecy said ' _true_  immortal'." He pointed out. "Ra's Al Ghul and Damien Darhk aren't  _true_  immortals because they rely on the Lazarus Pit. Plus, it says that Darhk will be killed while Ra's Al Ghul will still yet walk the Earth."

"I've never heard of  _anyone_  who is eternal  _without_  a Lazarus Pit," Nyssa said after a pause. "Also, Ra's Al Ghul will  _always_  walk the Earth, Oliver. A different person every couple of centuries, but the Demon's Head will  _always exist._  'There has always been a Ra's Al Ghul and there always will be a Ra's Al Ghul. As eternal as the stars in the sky, Ra's Al Ghul bears witness to all. His eyes and ears expand across the world and there is no place where he can't find you.'" She quoted Oliver's own words.

Maseo nodded his head, "An unseen enemy now has Nanda Parbat in their sights, but we must focus on Ra's Al Ghul. He is our priority. It is imperative that Oliver end his reign and, if he desires, claim his rightful place as the Demon's Head."

Closing his eyes, Oliver almost wished he were still dead.  _Almost._  His entire existence was utterly chaotic, convoluted beyond measure. Apparently, he was destined to be Ra's Al Ghul's heir and reside in the middle of the coming storm at the hands of a true immortal.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Her angry footsteps pounded through Verdant, the intense echo almost deafening. She had received a very vague text from Diggle only half an hour previously and was forced to clear her schedule in the afternoon. She was still vexed ever since Oliver had left without her input, leaving Roy to reveal the truth days after Oliver had departed and when she had glanced at the text message, she froze.

' _Get to the lair ASAP. About Oliver.'_

Despite her bitterness towards Oliver, she still cared for him and was relieved that she would finally receive answers, and probably from Oliver himself.

Over two months he had been away, battling Ra's Al Ghul, her  _sister's_  teacher, and Laurel was thankful that it was finally over.

Oliver had avenged Sara.

She was certain that her former boyfriend had succeeded and was waiting at the lair for her to arrive. Diggle would never send such a vague text otherwise. If Oliver had perished, God forbid, Diggle would have shown up at her office in person to reveal the terrible news.

She walked around the bar and ignored the memories of watching her sister mixing drinks when Oliver had offered Sara the job. The grief still lurked in every crevice of her heart; she honestly doubted  _that_  wound would ever heal, seeing her sister's body broken by three arrows.

Laurel then glanced around, making certain that  _no one_  was watching, specifically Thea, and entered the back room. The door was shut and she quickly entered the code, the anticipation of seeing Oliver again almost overwhelming. Despite their chaotic and convoluted history, she wanted Oliver in her life.

Laurel tried not to race down the stairs but the echo of her heels pinging off the metal like gunshots told her that she had failed. The lights were on and she immediately saw Roy leaning against one of the tables, arrowheads gleaming in the light from where they lied on the table.

"Hey, where's Oliver?" She then noticed Felicity and Diggle. "John, where is he? I thought-" Laurel's lips parted as the shadows seemed to part behind Felicity and Diggle.

Malcolm Merlyn's usual arrogant face was blank, eyes stormy with emotions she couldn't name. His hands were clasped behind his back loosely, revealing his pristine suit beneath his overcoat.

"Ms. Lance, thank you for coming. I thought it would be appropriate for you to be here." Merlyn's voice was level and Laurel swallowed.

"John, what's this all about? You said it would be about Oliver." She glanced around, hoping to see her former boyfriend appear out of the darkness of the lair just like Merlyn had done, but he never did.

Diggle's arms were crossed tightly across his chest, "Merlyn says he has something to tell us." His voice was tinged with grief and Laurel felt a terrible chill run down her spine.

"The League of Assassins conducts matters such as  _duels_  on grounds sacred to its beliefs, ancient rituals that have existed for millennia." Laurel's throat closed off, the unholy realization staring at her in the guise of Malcolm Merlyn. "This past week, I journeyed there and found…  _this._ " A blade appeared in his hands, barely visible under the dim light, but when Merlyn stepped closer and gently laid the weapon on the table, the sight was all too visible.

The sword was blood-stained and dark and red and  _terrible._  The air abruptly left Laurel's lungs, starving her as she stared at the blade, at the irrefutable truth.

Merlyn continued, his own dark eyes glued to the blood-stained sword. "It is Ra's Al Ghul's custom to leave behind the instrument of death as a way to honor the fallen, guiding them through the purge of unholy fire and then into the afterlife."

Laurel looked up, tears spilling down her cheeks as she heard Diggle's quivering breath. "Merlyn, did you  _see_ … Oliv- … _Oliver's body?_ You have evidence, proof of Ra's Al Ghul's victory?" Laurel could see the truth shining in her friend's eyes, glimmering underneath the futile hope that he was wrong.

"Oliver was flung off of a mountain," Merlyn said bluntly and Laurel's breath hitched, chest almost crushed under the image of Oliver Queen, the seemingly invincible hero of Starling City, the Arrow, dying in such a way. "His body seemed to have fallen into a ravine; his remains are… unrecoverable, I'm afraid."

Felicity perked up, hysteria bubbling in her eyes. "Then how do we know that that's  _Oliver's blood_  on the sword? It could be Ra's Al Ghul's! Maybe Oliver is holed up somewhere waiting for the League of Assassins' ire to fade; I mean, I would be pissed and vengeance-seeking if  _my leader_  was killed."

Laurel twisted her neck, trying to refrain letting out a choked sob. Felicity's naivety about Oliver was making the entire situation worse.

Malcolm Merlyn frowned, skin stretching across his cheeks, making him look inhuman for a moment. She dimly noticed Felicity flinch, paling greatly and tenderly raise a hand to touch her throat. "Because after I leave, Ms. Smoak, you will run a test on the sword. And after you confirm that it is,  _in fact,_  Oliver's blood, you will waste days of your life, exhausting yourself  _and_  your teammates with illogical conspiracy theories as to  _how_  I planted it or how the  _obvious facts_  are all lies. Then, you will be left the inescapable, irrefutable truth: Oliver Queen  _is dead,_  life snuffed out by the Demon's Head in an ancient ceremony."

Laurel closed her eyes, refusing to allow  _Malcolm Merlyn_  to see her tears. She heard Felicity's ragged breathing and knew another tirade was at hand. "This is your fault." Laurel's blurry eyes snapped open, staring at Felicity with narrowed, wet eyes. She dimly noticed both Diggle and Roy's eyes widen in dread. What was going on? What did Felicity mean? "Oliver went there because of you _,_  because of what you did to Thea, his beloved sister. You made her a target of the League's retribution, thus forcing Oliver to challenge Ra's Al Ghul!"

Merlyn's eyes calmly darted to Laurel's own at the mention of Thea, and she swallowed as the realization that  _something_  was being kept from her assaulted her mind. "What are you talking about?" She demanded, glaring at Tommy's father.

Felicity suddenly clammed up and her features paled drastically, blood draining from her face. She began to stutter, "What? No, no,  _no._  Um…  _nothing_. There's nothing about Sara that we haven't told you. What are  _you_  talking about, Laurel?"

Laurel whirled on Diggle, "John, what's going on?" She hissed dangerously, the name of her murdered sister igniting a blazing fire in her heart. She saw Roy back away and Merlyn perch himself on the table, waiting for something.

Diggle gazed at her with such sorrow and he swallowed, "Right before Oliver left, we discovered who killed Sara, but  _let me finish!"_  He snapped when Laurel opened her mouth in outrage. Moments passed and Diggle choked on a breath, "Oliver unearthed the truth and…" he suddenly seemed lost for words and slumped backward, the fight leaving him.

"Perhaps I should continue, Mr. Diggle." Merlyn smoothly cut in before Laurel could. "There is a rare plant called 'Votura' which grows in South America, thriving in Corto Maltese, which, if you remember, Ms. Lance, is where Thea and I lived for several months before returning to Starling City. This plant makes whoever consumes it extremelysusceptible to any suggestion, no matter how vile or cruel, while retaining no memory of their actions under the plant's effects."

Silence.

Laurel somehow noticed that she had fallen to her knees, body quivering as air refused to enter her lungs. The pieces all condensed together fluidly, forming a perfect, nightmarish picture.

Hatred for Malcolm Merlyn flooded her body with a strength she never knew was possible. She could see her body quivering on the shiny floor, reflected back at her perfectly. She witnessed, through the reflection, her face contorting, a mass of twisted fury, her eyes narrowed to slits, mouth open, sucking air between her teeth, which had taken on the appearance of animals' fangs. Laurel blitzed forward, only seeing  _red_ , but Diggle suddenly wrapped his arms around her stomach.

"Let  _me go!"_  She shrieked, bucking like an enraged donkey. "That  _motherfucker_  killed my sister!" Diggle grunted as she flung her elbow into his stomach, but he kept ahold of her.

"You're right, Ms. Lance," Merlyn suddenly said, quieting Laurel's feral snarls. "I did orchestrate the death of your sister so that the League would no longer target me." He stood up from the table, "Your sister was a worthy warrior, and, believe it or not, it… pained me to force Thea to kill her."

"Liar!" Laurel hissed, eyes flashing with the promise of death. She read between Merlyn's poisonous words; she was a lawyer. "It pained you to manipulate Thea! You felt  _nothing_  as my sister died!"

Merlyn raised a brow and his hands clasped behind his back, "Sara Lance knew the life she would live when she opted to pledge herself to the League again. Her death was inevitable; Ra's Al Ghul was plotting her death and sooner or later, it would have happened. I gave you the blessing of having a body to impart your final goodbyes to, Ms. Lance. It is not  _my fault_  that you neglected to share that gift with your father." With that, Merlyn soundlessly exited the lair, leaving behind four heartbroken souls.

Felicity almost ran out the back entrance, the sound of the door slamming shut a slap back to reality. Laurel wailed, tears spilling down her cheeks and hitting the shiny floor with the force of a dropped bomb. The fight had left her, fleeing as grief weighed down her soul. The guilt ate at her, gnawing at her heart incessantly, tormenting her about Merlyn's words. That monster was right. Laurel had already buried Sara and by now, her sister's body wasn't recognizable, just a pile of bones and decomposed flesh. Her father would never get to have that proper closure of saying goodbye as Merlyn had declared. The man who had murdered her little sister was right.

Soon, she knew that her rage would return and then, she would kill Malcolm Merlyn, the  _bastard._

"I'm sorry, Laurel, so  _terribly_  sorry," Diggle whispered and she sniffed, and shoved his arms off her.

She whirled towards him, eyes blazing, "Were you  _ever_  going to tell me? Was Oliver? Sara was my  _sister!"_

Diggle closed his eyes and Laurel noticed that utter weariness sunken into his eyes, but she didn't care. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, "After what happened when you first discovered Sara's death, Oliver and I agreed that we should wait until everything with the League was dealt with. Laurel, you were ready to  _kill_ , which is understandable, but you had almost killed the wrong man. Oliver was fearful for your  _life_  and, frankly, so was I. Malcolm Merlyn is one of the most dangerous men I've ever met, and if you attacked him in a grief-induced rage, he would kill you. Also, Oliver was hesitant because he had no idea what you would do about Thea's hand in Sara's death."

She swallowed and her anger swelled, "Does he think that I would be so consumed by vengeance that I would  _blame_  Thea?" More tears spilled down her cheeks at the thought.

Roy answered, face splintered by the news of Oliver's demise. "I don't think he did, but with everything that happened to him since he had arrived on Lian Yu, I think paranoia was second-nature to him, as easy to slip into as a pair of clothes. He trusted you, Laurel, but he was always waiting for those he trusted to stab him in the back; it happened to him a lot."

She didn't fail to notice Roy's use of the past tense when speaking of Oliver and her face crumpled, eyes brimming with more tears. Diggle stepped closer and Laurel accepted, hugging him with all her strength, hoping that he would shield her away from the pain, the grief, but knew that he wouldn't be able to.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She had tried and tried and  _tried._  With her every thought and every breath, she had tried, but it wasn't enough.  _Nothing_  was enough! For the past two months, she had been grasping at the thin wisps of hope in her heart with utter, hysterical abandon.

Oliver  _couldn't_ be gone!

The man she loved would  _never_ leave her, Ra's Al Ghul or not! He just  _couldn't be dead!_ He had  _had_   _to_  become the 'hero' she had fallen in love with and run off, despite her pleas not to do so, to battle the most dangerous man in the world.

Now, because of Oliver's stubbornness, he was gone, and her heart had flailed into unhealable, broken fragments.

Oh,  _how she loved him so!_ The man who retrofitted her ideals, her very beliefs about society. He was the hero whom all heroes strove to be, a hero beyond the tales of legend, of myth.

He had evolved past being the monster, the  _Hood_ , and become the  _Arrow_ , the savior of Starling City. She had witnessed the change firsthand and couldn't be more proud of herself for being integral in causing the change from monster to hero.

She damned the love of her life's protectiveness of his younger sister. It if weren't for Thea Queen's stupidity in trusting  _Malcolm Merlyn_ , she never would have killed Sara Lance, thus bringing Nyssa Al Ghul and her father into Oliver's life.

When Felicity had heard of Sara's death, to her shame, the first emotion that had flooded her heart was relief. Oliver and Sara had shared a connection that, if Felicity was being honest with herself, she and Oliver would never have. She was always jealous of the female warrior and the easy relationship that Oliver had had with her. Felicity had once desperately sought to become more like Sara but it was an utter failure  _except_  for the fact that Oliver had looked upon her in a new light when she had been scarred from the bullet wound that _had been meant_  for Sara.

When she had finally seen Sara Lance's body, the guilt had almost crushed her. She had desperately wanted to confess to John, but she knew that her friend would have looked at her in complete anger and disgust. Instead, Felicity had supported Oliver through his grief, encouraging him to avenge Sara's death.

Upon the news that  _Thea_  had murdered Sara under Malcolm Merlyn's control, Felicity had  _known_  that Oliver was going to lie to Ra's Al Ghul instead of revealing the truth to the monster. Without a doubt, she had known that the love of her life was going to die because of Thea.

Felicity bitterly cursed Thea Queen, the selfish  _twat_. That  _girl_  had gotten her brother, the greatest man the hacker had ever met, killed and Thea didn't even know of her actions.

She choked on the air trying to enter her quivering lungs and shuddered miserably. Tears blurred her vision and grief drowned her mind with the intensity of an earthquake.

After Malcolm Merlyn had left the lair, choosing to leave the…  _sword_  behind, Felicity had immediately, in a grief-filled daze, stumbled to her apartment, needing to escape from the horror. The expression on Laurel's face had haunted her; the lawyer had always seemed so casual and calm, but the eyes that had stared at Malcolm Merlyn during his explanation were  _not_  casual or calm. They had seemed to burst out of their sockets, widening in disbelief, on the edge of hysteria. Then, the fury had swept across her face like a tide, leaving only destruction in its wake.

Ever since Oliver had left, her life had become a horrible nightmare.

Then, after hours of weeping and loneliness, Felicity had noticed the lateness of the night and knew that no sleep would ease the bitter pain of her grief.

Instead of staring at walls with blotched eyes, she had left her apartment, uncaring if she were mugged, raped, or even killed. She had known that there was no point to life without Oliver in it.

Starling City was blanketed by the night, no lights piercing through the darkness; only the wash of the lively moon outlined several of the skyscrapers of the city, including Palmer Technologies.

Which was where she had been standing in front of for the past several minutes.

It hadn't been her intention, but now that she had actually arrived, Felicity didn't want to leave. She needed the pain to leave her, to give her at least a few hours of peace.

Felicity knew that she wasn't thinking clearly and that she would regret her actions the next day, but she didn't care; her grief was too strong.

Crossing her arms across her stomach as unobtrusively as possible, she walked up the steps and robotically swiped her card through the scanner and was rewarded with the door unlocking. Once inside, Felicity turned left in the foyer of the building, nodding mechanically to the guards at the front desk. She came to the elevators and numbly pressed the button and security code for Ray's personal workshop area - he had recently given the code to her but she had deluded herself, thinking that she would never need it or use it.

How wrong she had been.

She stepped off the elevator and turned right, barely glancing at the exquisite paintings that must have cost millions of dollars proudly displayed across the wall. She was on one focused pursuit; and she intended to be successful, damning whatever consequences appeared in the future.

She heard the tell-tale sound of machinery and found herself in a large room filled with tools she had never seen before. And at the center of it all was Ray Palmer, her boss.

He turned towards her in surprise, placing a tool on the clustered table, "Felicity? What are you doing here?" His eyes widened in dread, "Don't  _get me_  wrong. It's  _great_  to see you, but I just wasn't expecting you, that's all." After a moment, his eyes roamed her face and alarm spread through his features, "Are you all right? What is it? What's wrong?" He stepped closer and she opened her mouth, but no words would pass her lips.

"Felicity," Ray began, but she almost harshly placed her right hand over his mouth, a quick touch, a desperate request for his silence. She tilted her face upward to his, eyes brimming with sorrowful tears.

Several seconds passed and their eyes stayed locked. Felicity slowly reached up with both hands this time, cupping Ray's clean-shaven face. In response, his arms wrapped around her. Without giving herself a moment to reconsider her actions, she brought his lips down to hers, parting her own for his. She knew that Ray could feel the hot moisture of her tears against his face, and was relieved when he didn't protest.

Ray kissed her gently as she trembled, moving his hands down her back, fondling her, caressing her as their kiss soon became filled with an urgency that surprised her. Ray pulled her into him tightly, and in response, Felicity's hands rubbed the slender muscles of his back, of his ass, and Ray moved a hand to her breast, squeezing tenderly.

Abruptly, she pulled her mouth away from his. "Oh, Ray, I beg you," she said, her voice mournful. "Take me,  _please. Love me!"_

Ray picked her up, fusing his mouth to hers and stumbled into the room adjacent to his workshop. He laid her down and passion clouded the air. It was coarse and not necessarily comfortable, but Felicity didn't really notice; it was exactly what she needed.

They made love quickly and without speaking, disrobed only partially.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Ever since his 'awakening' from death, he had been unable to sleep. For eleven days now, he had stared into the flames of the darkness-piercing fire when he was supposed to be sleeping. The movements of the sporadic, crackling flames soothed him, brought him a comfort that had before seemed unattainable.

Pain was a constant affliction, always weakening his mind and body no matter the task. He was still too weak. His body was scarred beyond compare, chest reminiscent of a butcher's chopping block. His forearm wound had left a large, gruesome scar, reminding him that Ra's Al Ghul could have sliced off his hand and wrist if he had wanted to. Small scars decorated his torso, back, and neck, revealing where Nyssa and Maseo had delicately utilized the Lazarus Pit water.

New sensations were always happening. Maseo had explained that it was because of his new nerves via the Lazarus Pit water. They were like a baby's, in a way. They had to become accustomed to the signals and pathways, again.

Perhaps the greatest of results from the Demon's Head deadly precision was his throat, his voice. It was exhausting to speak, even in a painless whisper. Anything uttered above that of a whisper was excruciatingly painful, torrents of claws piercing through his throat relentlessly.

Ra's Al Ghul had robbed him of his voice and it was something that Oliver had never realized that he had taken for granted.

He hoped to deal a similar blow to the Demon's Head.

Ever since Nyssa's revelation of the two prophecies and Maseo's urging to triumph over his master, he had come to accept his preordained fate.

He should be dead, meeting his father, Yao Fei, Shado, Akio, Tommy, his mother, and Sara in the afterlife, finally achieving his long sought-after peace.

But instead, destiny had chosen to gift him a second chance, allowing him to see his sister again and rectify his absolute, grievous mistake in allowing Malcolm to live.

The flames shifted and Oliver stared with tired eyes, unable to sleep. The cold seeped into his body even though nothing but warmth was surrounding him, causing him to hunch inward in search of the heat that would never appear. He had had no warmth since his 'awakening'. Only the  _cold._  He was haunted by the continuous flashes of  _feeling_  his body fall off the mountain.

The fall…

He flinched and his breathing elevated, nausea abruptly plaguing him. How was he supposed to fight Ra's Al Ghul  _again?_  Sweat began to collect at his temples. How could he…  _become_  Ra's Al Ghul? Maybe Nyssa was wrong! And Maseo! The prophecy didn't mean him. It meant someone else, one who could actually go through the trials!

A soft hand gently touched his shoulder and Oliver's eyes snapped open, breathing harshly echoing through the flame-lighted area. He swallowed and felt the fingers lightly graze the back of his neck, soothing the inanimate fear and the  _cold._

"Thank you," he whispered, eyes falling shut, head still hung.

Nyssa hummed and he felt her body slide next to his own, fingers still connected to his neck. "My mother used to do this. One of the only memories I have of her is when she would do  _this_  after I had a nightmare. I wasn't even four years old. It had always helped and chased away the demons in the dark."

Oliver sighed in relief, "Well, it definitely works."

"I'm glad," her voice was soft, spaced out between words. "What you're  _going_  through… I can't imagine how difficult it must be for you." Her gentle fingers applied more pressure, soothing the pressure-ridden muscles coiled beneath his heated skin. "I'm sorry about what happened, about what  _my_   _father_  did to you."

"You have nothing to apologize for. You've done more than enough, more than you should have."

"It doesn't change the facts, though."

He glanced at her, tilting his head upward, taking in her somber eyes. "You're right, but it's the conclusions from those facts that matter." His voice was quiet and he hung his head again. "I don't blame you or Maseo for what happened. In fact, your gift to resurrect me, lined up with our  _tense_  history, seems  _unthinkable_  in hindsight _._  But you saved my life, anyway, despite it all."

Nyssa finally removed her fingers and Oliver found his body missing the soothing feeling that she had given him. He looked up as she clasped her hands together, fingers twitching in response to something. Fear? Confusion? Embarrassment? Anger? He didn't know.

She finally spoke, "Why did you lie? Sarab and I both know that you did." Her eyes locked on his own. "Why did you vehemently claim that  _you killed_  Sara? I… don't understand. You loved her… and she you."

Oliver felt the  _cold_  seep into his soul once again, and he closed his eyes. "What if I told you that I couldn't tell you?"

"Then I would suspect that you were lying, but the truth is ugly and… painful."

He felt  _dark_  laughter escape through his lips in a huff. "It's far more than that," he corrected. "It's  _blood-soaked._ "

Several moments passed and the flames crackled and the wood splintered, echoing through the air. The cabin was dark and the icy winds were audible through the thick wood. Small windows on the side of the room were covered in ice, and the flames were reflected through it.

Nyssa's hand suddenly gripped his own not unkindly. "Any truth, no matter how evil or corrupt, is better than a generous lie. I just want to understand, Oliver. What possible conclusion would convince you to  _lie_  to my father, to me?" Her hand jolted and Oliver looked at her, startled. "It's because you  _couldn't_  find who had murdered Sara, isn't it? You didn't want your city to suffer. Oh, of  _course._  You  _would_  do that, wouldn't you? Oh,  _why_ would you do that, you damned fool?"

Oliver wet his lips and exhaled roughly. "No, that's not the reason, Nyssa. You're right. I did lie about killing Sara. I didn't kill her; I was grief-stricken when I saw her body."

"I already knew that, Oliver. You're stalling. Get to the heart of the matter."

"I  _did_ discover who killed Sara, but the murderer… wasn't the killer." He held up his other hand, "Don't interrupt,  _please._  I'm about to tell you, but it's…  _difficult_ , you see."

"You…  _knew_  the murderer, didn't you?" Nyssa's voice was soft, on the precipice of an eruption. "You didn't want them to suffer, so you took sole possession of the blame."

He nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. "Thea… fired the arrows that ended Sara's life," he bit out softly, hating the truth in those accursed words.

She continued to stare at him a moment longer, the tension inside her building, conveyed by her eyes. Nyssa shook her hand out of his hand, and her face was blank. "Your…  _sister_  killed Sara," she stood to her feet, turning from him and moved towards the fire, the  _cold_  in Oliver's body intensifying with each step. He watched her, feeling the intensity of her emotions, knowing its roots, seeing her face in the radiant, orange glow of the crackling fire. There was nothing he could do; she must deal with the knowledge of the blood-soaked truth, and only then would he be able to explain. She whipped her head towards him, eyes glaring. "Explain."

"My sister is Malcolm Merlyn's biological daughter," his face darkened in rage, "and she blindly,  _stupidly_  chose to trust the bastard after Slade's siege. For  _months,_  she has been in his psychotic grip, twisted by his poisonous deeds and words and actions. He has turned her into a killer, and if you believe  _anything_  of what I am sharing, believe  _this:_  there is nothing more I want than to watch the life painfully fade out of his body."

"I believe  _that,"_

"You need to believe  _all of it_  because it's the blood-soaked truth that you wanted to know. Thea was under Malcolm's influence, manipulated into killing Sara by a drug called Votura that has the unique effect-"

"The 'Slave Drug'," she interrupted him, "I know of it. My father sent me on a mission several years ago to assassinate the heads of a criminal empire that ran human sex trafficking all over the globe. They were so successful with their clients because they forced Votura on the women and even the few men. The captured then became the perfect  _sex slaves."_  She spat out, rage and disgust carved into her face.

Oliver nodded in understanding, knowing how evil the world can be. "Thea doesn't know what she did, has no memory of killing Sara. Malcolm had an incriminating,  _damning_  video of Thea doing the deed that he showed me to force my hands. I lied to your father because I feared that he would kill my sister.  _That's_  the truth, Nyssa." His throat began to hurt and he took a sip of water from the bowl next to him.

Seconds passed until finally, Nyssa sat in front of him, eyes staring into his own. "By everything sacred, what you've been through; you're sister unknowingly killing a woman you loved, being forced to fight my father to save your sister's life,  _and_ then being resurrected." She whispered, eyes roaming his face in sympathy and something akin to fascination, "What you  _are_  going through now. You are a true warrior, Oliver. You  _are_  the prophesied heir to Ra's Al Ghul's throne."

His eyes shut and the  _cold_  was frigid, turning his soul to ice. "I don't want to be. It should be you."

"You can't escape fate, Oliver," her voice was understanding, empathetic. "It's something I have had to deal with since we resurrected you. I had to accept my fate of  _not_  becoming Ra's Al Ghul."

"I've already accepted my fate," he revealed, opening his eyes tiredly, connecting with Nyssa's. "But it doesn't mean that I  _like_  my fate or refuse to wish for a different destiny."

"I'm not sure many do," she said softly and her eyes narrowed, tilting her head as she looked at him. "You need not worry. I will not harm your sister, you have my word; there would be no justice in doing so, only cruelty.  _Malcolm Merlyn_  is why Sara was murdered and sooner or later, my sword will be stained with his blood."

His relief was tangible, "Thank you, Nyssa. Not many in your position would be so merciful." His lips quirked, "I would like to watch that, you killing Malcolm. I think it would be cathartic."

He was surprised when she laughed quietly, genuine emotion flashing in her hypnotic eyes. "I wouldn't mind that," she smiled slightly and her eyes connected to his bare chest, to the scars littering his skin. Her smile faded, "Sarab and I have already concocted a plan during your 'sleep'. My father is suspicious of our long departure, no doubt. He cannot know that I and Sarab betrayed him. That's why, once we depart from our current dwelling, I will be returning to Starling City with you."

"Now wait a minute-"

Nyssa interrupted, "I've had much more time to think about this than you have, Oliver, same goes for Sarab. You will need my help. I am who has been nursing your body back from death and can deal with any future problems. Your team wouldn't understand. They know nothing of the Lazarus Pit or Soultaker. They know nothing of the implications of resurrecting one from the afterlife. I am the only one who can aid you in a full recovery because, despite what you may tell them, you're not fully healed yet."

"And Maseo?"

"He will depart to Nanda Parbat when we journey to Starling City, informing my father that I am continuing my mission to bring your body to him. He will say that I am infuriated at your continued survival and your defiance, your challenging of Ra's Al Ghul." Her eyes became deadly serious, capturing him with the intensity. "Sarab will declare that you had  _somehow_  survived the duel, no words mentioning his and my own exploits in your survival; I ventured that he could convince my father that after you were kicked off the mountain-"

Oliver flinched, images exploding in his eyes, blinding him, and his breathing elevated, the phantom feelings spasming through his body. His head dropped and he curled inward, seeking salvation from the pain, the  _memories._

The  _cold._

Nyssa's fingers suddenly gently, soothingly kneaded his neck again, driving away the pain and phantoms of her father's power. Slowly, like a speedometer dropping from hundreds of miles per hour to zero without the use of a brake, he felt the lurking memories cease under her ministrations. He sighed and the divine feeling of Nyssa's fingers slowed, getting ready to conclude.

"Please,  _don't_  stop." He whispered, hating his weakness, but not truly caring at the moment. He was so tired. "It soothes the…  _cold._ "

"Very well," her voice was filled with sympathy and something else. Not pity, but  _something_ else. "That was terribly rude of me, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to inflict such awful and dreadful…"

"I know," he said softly, taking peace from the sensation of Nyssa's fingers. "It's not your fault. …What did you venture to Maseo about after my fall?"

Her fingers continued as she spoke, "My father might believe that you somehow managed to grip the edge of one of the cliffs or a sturdy tree at the last moment - the adrenaline of a man on the cusp of death."

Oliver nodded in understanding, "He could say that I must have discarded the opportunity for peace, refusing to submit to it, and in my panic to live, I snagged a tree with my good hand." He sensed more than saw her glance at his scarred forearm and knew she understood. "It's happened to me before." His head continued to hang down, trying to protect him from the memories.

"How so?"

"Did Sara ever explain what happened with Slade Wilson?" When he saw her shadow cast by the fire nod, he continued with the strength that the fingers soothing him provided. "After the freighter blew up, I remember that I was set adrift hundreds of miles away from Lian Yu. I don't know how I ended that far away, but I was alone and wounds were weakening my body with each passing second. The ocean was a tempest; I was in a storm by myself. The freezing water enveloped me," he said softly, remembering those terrifying moments when he thought he would die. "It swallowed me under, twisted me in dizzying circles, then propelled me up to the surface only long enough to gasp a  _single_  breath of much-needed air, and then I was under again. And there was heat, too, a strange  _moist_  heat at my temple - from when Slade had punched me, no doubt. It seared through that icy water that kept swallowing me, a fire where  _no_  fire should exist." He felt a huff of almost hysterical laughter exhale through his lips. "There was ice, as well; an ice-like throbbing in my stomach and legs and chest - the explosion of the freighter had pierced my body with much debris, I later learned. It was odd, actually. The icy throbbing was  _warmed_  by the frigid sea around me." He took another sip of water from the bowl, head still bent.

"How did you survive?" Nyssa brought her other hand up and her second set of fingers joined the ministrations of their counterparts. He almost moaned at the sheer relief those simple soothing motions brought him.

He continued in a whisper, "I could  _feel_ these things, you know, recognize the panic as I felt them. I watched my body turning and twisting, arms and feet working frantically against the pressures of the whirlpool. I could feel, think, see, panic and struggle, yet there was a  _peace_  during all of it. You see, it was the calm of the observer, the  _uninvolved_ observer, separated from the events, having knowledge of them but not… intricately involved. Then a new type of panic spread through my body, my mind, surging through the heat and ice and the calm. I  _couldn't_  relent to the release of peace. I began to kick furiously, clawing at the walls of water above. I broke the surface and received a breath of air as my reward. I was surrounded by foam and smoke, burning my eyes along with the sea water. My salvation was the debris from the freighter that had been swept into the storm with me. I grasped a thick object - I think it was a barrel, or part of one, but I'm not certain - that kept me afloat. I held it and rode until I blacked out."

"Then you worked for A.R.G.U.S, along with Sarab under Amanda Waller." She concluded. He tensed, and his head lifted from its hung position. He dimly noticed how close Nyssa was, her arms wrapped around his face, resting on his shoulders as her fingers soothed his pain. Fear had spread through him at her words. Not because of  _her._  No. About her father. Had Ra's Al Ghul been keeping tabs on his personal history? She must have sensed his line of thought because she quickly, honestly reassured him. "Sarab told me about it, about the General, Akio, and the Alpha and Omega bioweapon."

He breathed deeply in relief, the motions of Nyssa's fingers on his neck battering away the pain and fear. "Do you have any plans as to  _how_  I can battle your father again, let alone  _kill_ him?" He asked after several seconds.

"I believe that times will present themselves when we are in Starling City. Together, and - if you want - your sister and/or team can aid us, we can create an infallible plan utilizing the prophecies and anything else we can."

"And if I don't want you to come along?" He dared, forcing the words to pass through his tired throat.

Nyssa laughed softly, "You had tried to persuade me to believe that  _you_  had killed Sara, and after only a minute of consideration, I didn't believe you. This attempt you just ventured was even  _less_  convincing of a lie." A smile crossed her lips, "As much as the thought may pain us, we are stuck in this coming storm together, Oliver."

He stared into her amused eyes and he felt his own lips curl into a genuine smile, "It doesn't pain me," he whispered. "I trust you as much as I can trust anyone. You  _brought me back_  from the dead and nursed me to health. If you wanted me dead or hurt, I would be. Instead, I am on the road to recovery because of your decision - and Maseo's, too."

The fingers on his neck stilled for only a moment and then continued their ministrations. "Thank you for trusting me; I'm not sure it's deserved, but I will do my best to uphold it." The fingers slowed in their intensity and became even more gentle, "Now sleep, Oliver. You haven't slept in days. Your body and mind need rest. It's as much a weapon as any blade or arrow."

Oliver exhaled a breath of laughter and accepted her decree. She was right. He was  _so_ tired and now, with Nyssa's fingers keeping the  _cold_  at bay, it might be the only chance he will have to sleep peacefully.

His eyes fluttered shut and the crackling flames echoed quietly in the air, riveting his ears on the sound and he focused on it, drawing peace from the noise and Nyssa's touch.

XxXxXxXxXxX

**All right, that's all for this one, folks! I hope you all enjoyed it. It was fun to write, and I'm satisfied with how it all came together. Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought. If you have questions, ask! I'd be happy to answer.**

****Two prophecies! All right, the first one is one that I came up with after some heavy brainstorming, but the second one is based heavily on the** _**Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold** _ **poem in J.R.R. Tolkien's** _**The** _ _**Hobbit.** _ **I always liked the idea of the League of Assassins having a long, rich lore, filled with ancient prophecies and omens. I hope you enjoyed those! I'm happy with how they turned out.**

****Laurel finally discovers who murdered Sara and it goes about how you would realistically expect. I honestly think that Malcolm** **did** **feel regret about Thea's 'brainwashing' but couldn't really care less about Sara's role that, in his eyes, had had to be played.**

****Felicity sleeps with Ray! I hope I at least caught some of you off guard with that scene, but I truly,** **truly** **believe that is how Felicity's character would react to the evidence of Oliver's demise instead of what Season 3 did. She has shown countless times in the show that she would have the capacity to do something reckless like that. (E.g. Felicity joins Helix against A.R.G.U.S. and** **should** **have** **definitely been tossed in prison. Marrying Oliver only** **after** __ **she heard from Eobard Thawne, who is usually honest if he knows that his words will** **hurt** _**,** _ **that she was unknown in the future, in the age of heroes or something like that. Season 4's bullshit about her and Oliver 'breaking up' because he kept his son, whom he had just learned about, a secret from her.) If it seems that I'm bashing Felicity… well, I kind of am. I hate her character, always have. That doesn't mean that I can't recognize the good qualities in her, it's just that her bad qualities outweigh the good ones** **heavily** _**.** _

**I think that's it! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and if you still have questions, feel free to review and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability. Unfortunately, if it's a guest review, I won't be able to directly message, so I'll answer in the disclaimer and author's note sections.**

_**Stay Safe  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


	5. Chapter 4

**If anyone believes the throat thing to be an attempt to create drama and anything like that, well it isn't. Remember, Nyssa had a** _**small** _ **vial of Lazarus Pit water. Oliver had a copious amount of injuries and wounds that had to be dealt with** _**before** _ **Nyssa and Maseo moved to the throat. By the time they did arrive at the throat to heal it, which was already very badly injured, there was hardly any drops of Lazarus Pit water remaining. They did what they could and there are consequences for it: Oliver's throat is maimed and can only speak in a whisper.** _**Arrow** _ **hasn't really shown the depths of one's decisions and the consequences that can arise from said decisions except for, in my opinion, Slade and Prometheus. This story will deal with the consequences and the fallout of them. Back to the throat: yes, the Lazarus Pit would heal** _**anything and everything** _ **if one was fully submerged - ala, Ra's Al Ghul. Oliver wasn't able to have that luxury and was denied the full healing process that a Lazarus** _**would** _ **give him. Currently, his warrior's spirit and some of his body are broken and he has to overcome those obstacles. I hope I cleared up any confusion or doubts. I appreciate the comments, guys!**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** _**Arrow** _ **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** _**Arrow** _ **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

"When we see each other again, it might be as enemies, my friend." Sarab stared into Oliver's eyes while Nyssa waited patiently by the door. She had witnessed Oliver make much progress in the weeks since his awakening from death, but she knew that if he was to even have a  _chance_  to defeat her father, he must become even more than he had been before his death.

Since she was young, she had heard the two prophecies every day, forced to recite them to please her father. During her adolescence, she had fantasized that it was  _she_  who was the unstoppable warrior in those omens, but she had known, deep down, that it was never going to happen. She had also hoped that the lines about the Demon's daughter meant Talia, but now she knew for certain that it spoke of Nyssa herself.

Ever since recalling the prophecies for Oliver almost a month ago, she had searched her memory for any record of a  _true_  immortal. Despite her best efforts, no answers came to her. The only immortals she had ever heard of were her father and Damien Darhk. It was infuriating! Because of her choice to help save Oliver, Nanda Parbat would face an immortal's wrath! She needed to figure it out.

"You will never be my enemy, Maseo." Oliver whispered, "You are my friend and if you find yourself fleeing from Ra's Al Ghul, you will always be welcome wherever I am."

Nyssa watched as Sarab's lips curled slightly and his eyes stared at Oliver in almost awe. "If you find yourself doubting your capabilities, remember that not just  _anyone_  can taste death and come back from that and live in the land of the living. You are stronger than you know." Sarab laid a hand on Oliver's shoulder and squeezed. "Be sure to rest when needed and don't worsen your conditions, my friend." Oliver smiled tiredly and Nyssa was again reminded of the lack of sleep he had gotten since his awakening.

"You know me better than that," he said quietly, voice a permanent rasp. Nyssa doubted that Oliver's voice would ever be what it once was unless he had full access to her father's Lazarus Pit. She wondered if he realized that if he accepted his destiny as Ra's Al Ghul, then he would be able to heal his body of  _everything_  that hindered him.

Sarab patted his shoulder and turned towards her. "After you depart, I will wait for several days and then journey back to Nanda Parbat. I will tell your father what we agreed upon. Let us hope that he believes it because, otherwise, we will all die in the most painful ways possible."

Oliver slowly aligned himself next to Nyssa, bundled up to where only his face was visible. His thick beard protected most of his skin, but his eyes were gleaming in the dim light of the cabin. His hair had grown long and tumbled just above his shoulders and if it weren't for his gear, she knew that the hair would fall over his eyes somewhat. Despite everything, Oliver was ready to depart even though he wasn't fully healed. She herself was bundled up in a similar fashion, extra layers of clothing covering her armor. She also carried a large backpack filled with supplies from the cabin.

It was to be a long, arduous journey.

"Farewell, old friend," Oliver said softly and nodded his head before stepping out the door, winds howling for several seconds. "I'll wait for you," he nodded at Nyssa before she shut the door.

She looked at her accomplice, "If you are able to, Sarab, try to find any information in the League's records about a  _true_  immortal. Be discreet in your search."

"I will try, but I am unable to promise anything, Nyssa. Ra's Al Ghul will, no doubt, be watching me closely." He glanced out the icy-coated window where Oliver's form was visible against the flurries of snow. "A word of advice about Oliver: he is the most stubborn man I've ever met, and from what I've seen, the years have done very little to dull his obstinance. He will undoubtedly try to conceal his pain during your travels back to Starling City, and when it comes to his recovery, he will be  _most_  impatient."

"I will deal with anything that happens, Sarab." She nodded her head and opened the door, closing her eyes as snow lashed out at her. "Farewell, Sarab. May the Demon's Head be satisfied upon your return to Nanda Parbat."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The weight of his layers combined with the heavy snow he was forced to trudge through left him exhausted. It was humbling but also humiliating. It was a reminder of what Ra's Al Ghul had done to him, how the man had  _ruined_  his body.

Nyssa was on his right, trudging along with him step-for-step. For several hours now, no words had conversed between them. Only the relentless winds were audible, whipping around their bodies, lashing painfully at their unprotected skin.

Swept by the pure exhaustion poisoning his limbs, the immovable notion of continuing, Oliver tried to speak. His lips moved but no words escaped his maimed throat. He began to panic, the helplessness suffocating. How could he live like this?

Luckily, Nyssa seemed to understand what had happened and she stepped closer, wrapping her left arm around his waist. Oliver had just enough strength to raise his right arm around her shoulder, gratefully using her as an anchor, keeping him from succumbing to his destitute body.

She shouldered most of his weight and guided him to a bulky, shrouded tree trunk several yards away. Nyssa eased him to the ground and Oliver fell bonelessly against the bark and closed his eyes, breathing heavily for several moments.

"I'll build a fire," she said and Oliver was unable to acknowledge her words, only opening his eyes and staring at her. She laid her bow next to him and her eyes critically swept over him, assessing his condition.

He opened his lips to tell her he was fine, but he wasn't able to. He grasped the snow next to him and barely managed to bring his hand to his mouth, slurping the snow, the frigid feel a relief to his throbbing throat. "I- I'm…  _fine_ ," He croaked and she nodded, whirling around, standing tall against winter's unholy power.

He watched as she began to scrape snow to the side, the beginnings of a pit visible. After several minutes of digging out snow with her gloved hands, thus making the pit deeper, Nyssa slipped her backpack off and to his surprise, pulled a rock slab, half a foot in both width and length, and dropped it into the pit.

She stomped on it, wedging it firmly in the pit before reaching out and snapping off one of the numerous branches on the tree. She pulled out her sword and in one clean stroke, sliced all of the pines, stems, and shrubs off. She did the same with four more branches and laid them on the slab. She then began to hack each branch into separate pieces, cleaving wood from wood.

Nyssa placed several of the logs around the slab, creating a perfect square. Then, to his surprise, she dumped all of the pines, stems, and shrubs on top of the slab, rearranging the pieces every few seconds. After several more moments, she rummaged through her sack and pulled out a lighter.

Oliver smiled tiredly at her as the slab caught fire, lighting the area around them. "Tha- tha- thank you," he managed to whisper, wondering how he would have made the journey without her aiding him.

She fiddled several branches into the crackling flames and stepped back satisfied. She pocketed the lighter and slung the sack over her back. She then plopped down next to him, leaning her head back against the bark in contentment.

"You're welcome." She said and turned towards him after several seconds. "How are you feeling?"

Oliver huffed out a broken laugh. He gripped more snow and swallowed it. "Like shit, if I'm being honest. My muscles are atrophied, and I'm so  _fucking_  cold." He forced himself to keep talking, needing the simplicity of  _speaking_  with another person.

"You're wearing more layers than I am, but it's not from the winter weather, is it?"

"No, it's not. Ever since I… woke up, I've been cold almost all the time." His eyes shut in grief. "I may have been brought back from death, but its touch still lingers."

Nyssa was quiet for a minute, the winter storm roaring in both of their ears. Her eyes connected with his own and he was struck by the sympathy in them. "I don't know what to say." She sounded ashamed.

"There's nothing to say, Nyssa." He whispered bluntly. "It's obviously a result of the trauma I suffered and I'm certain that there are some psychological explanations and shit, but it doesn't change what I feel. The  _cold_  is inside me, and it is something that I  _must_  learn to live with." He brought more snow to his lips and swallowed it, allowing the relief for his throat.

"You won't have to learn on your own." Her eyes were warm, brightened by the fire she had just created. "I'll be with you every step of the way. I swore that I would nurse you back to health, and I intend to see the job completed."

He was quiet, speechless as he didn't know what to say in response. Nyssa Al Ghul continued to awe him with each passing day. Nobody had ever aided him as much as she had since his battle against her father. Not his mother, Thea, Diggle, Felicity, Laurel, Sara, and even his own father.

Robert Queen had committed suicide so that Oliver could have a  _chance_  to survive. But in doing so, he had left Oliver alone with no one that he could trust. Oliver had been all alone, no knowledge that Lian Yu was inhabited by the likes of Yao Fei, Fyers, and Slade. He had been blessed that Yao Fei had discovered him before the others, and showed him the survival instincts necessary to live.

But Nyssa had gifted him life itself. She could have stopped Maseo and reported him to Ra's Al Ghul, but she had done neither. Instead, she had joined his old friend and utilized all of her Lazarus Pit water, a treasure beyond compare, on Oliver so that  _he_ could live. Now, he has continued to learn that she has been vigilant in nursing him back to health, journeying with him back to Starling City, and simply remaining by his side when he felt more alone than ever before.

Oliver swallowed thickly and ignored the pain in his throat,  _needing_  to speak the words and no matter how maimed his throat was, it wasn't going to prohibit him! He turned towards her fully, uncaring if his eyes displayed how vulnerable he suddenly felt. She had already literally seen him at his lowest point.

" _Thank you_  for everything." He shuddered out, watching as Nyssa's eyes widened slightly, but he continued to fight through the pain. "I owe you my  _life_. I won't ever be able to repay you for this priceless gift."

She was quiet and her eyes roamed his face before she nodded slowly. "Kill my father and all 'debts' will be paid in full."

Oliver felt a surge of strength and grasped her hand before she could even react. Their eyes locked, "And I  _promise_  that I will kill your father. It's the least I could do after  _everything_  you've done for me." At that moment, his declaration cemented in his heart, down to its deepest recesses.

He would kill the Demon's Head.

"And what of your preordained destiny?" She asked quietly, her hand still held in his own. "Will you allow yourself to be reincarnated as Ra's Al Ghul?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I've avoided thinking about it."

Her eyes crinkled in silent laughter and Oliver felt his own lips twitch. Her hand squeezed his own and slipped out of his. "I will tend to the fire while you rest."

"Let  _me_  tend to the flames while  _you_  rest, Nyssa. I've rested enough already, for  _months_  - literally." He coughed out.

"It's already decided, Oliver; my mind will not change. Don't be stubborn. It's unbecoming for one as brilliant as yourself." He struggled to sit up, but a firm hand on his shoulder kept him grounded. "Just rest, Oliver. You've hardly  _truly rested_  since your awakening. We both know that you need it. Do your words from minutes ago sound familiar? Your main job is to recover, while mine is to aid you."

Oliver inhaled deeply, ignoring the twinge of pain in his throat. "I feel useless; it's like I was on Lian Yu at the beginning. I hate it."

Nyssa kneeled next to him and surprised him by gripping his chin and twisting his head to the side. Her eyes burned with fire, "You are  _not_  alone and you won't be as long as I'm here. From what I've heard, the Oliver from before, and at the beginning of Lian Yu sounded like an imbecile." Oliver coughed out a laugh at her words and she smiled before continuing. "And in case you didn't know, I do  _not_  think of you as an imbecile - quite the opposite, actually. While you may feel useless now, it won't stay that way for long if I have anything to say about it."

He memorized her beautiful features framed by her raven hair and swallowed. "You know, if it wasn't for you, I would still be dead, kicking up daisies on that fucking ravine. You may think of yourself as irredeemable because you're Ra's Al Ghul's daughter, but your actions since the  _duel_  contradict that greatly. You are a good person, Nyssa, one who is far more merciful than anyone else if they were in your position." He said slowly, spacing his words, retaining as much energy as possible. "You've lived your entire life under Ra's Al Ghul's - the most dangerous man in the world - immortal heel, yet you've  _survived_  and still have humanity." He brought his own hand up and squeezed her layered shoulder. "Maseo said something to me this morning and I think it bears repeating because it applies to you, too. 'You are stronger than you know.'"

She didn't say anything for several moments, eyes staring at him before she exhaled deeply. "Thank you, Oliver," Her words were barely audible over the sound of the crackling fire and whipping frigid winds, but he heard them. "I've learned recently that I can't escape my father's legacy; I can only accept it and try to leave a better one than he and my sister when I leave this world."

"You've already built a better legacy than your father… and your sister."

She smiled and several amused huffs escaped her lips. "Not many would think so, but I'm glad that you do."

XxXxXxXxXxX

' _Where is the Arrow?'_  A single question had led to numerous inquiries and theories about where Oliver's alter ego had been for the past months. It was beginning to become a problem, a  _big_  problem.

Diggle had even heard of a link between Oliver Queen and the Arrow - a single woman had remarked on national television that both Starling City's most famous bachelor and its bow-wielding hero had disappeared at the  _same_ time. When that rumor had begun to spread like wildfire, Diggle had panicked - the rest of the team, too. Contingency plans were meticulously designed by everyone, retconned until they were infallible, but none of the plans had needed to be implemented.

Shockingly, Detective Quentin Lance had snuffed out the 'outrageous' rumors in a very public statement:  _'This speculation, this tiresome gossip that Oliver Queen is the Arrow is absurd. Mr. Queen has already been detained in the past concerning the possibility that he was, in fact, the Hood, but the investigation that followed concluded that Oliver Queen was in no way, shape or form, the Hood. The Arrow, by our highly-trained team, has already been determined to be the same man as the Hood. Now, this unidentifiable hero has changed his name and is working with the Starling City Police Department. Oliver Queen is not the Arrow. This city needs to stop focusing on Mr. Queen and his whereabouts and center its attention on the Glades and the fact that Daniel Brickwell's notorious, heinous actions have forced our city to abandon the Glades, leaving it under the control of a psychotic madman.'_

Bafflement had spread through the team, yet gratefulness mingled within. Nobody knew what to make of Quentin Lance's statement, but they all knew one thing: the Glades and Brickwell needed to be dealt with.

"Listen, we're pussyfooting around," Roy said loudly, his words floating in the air of the basement of  _Verdant_  with the weight of a mountain _._  "This city's hope has plummeted without any appearances from the 'Arrow'. Crime has skyrocketed in the past months and people like Brickwell aren't going to stop anytime soon."

Felicity crossed her arms over her chest, features drawn and anxious. "What are you saying, Roy?"

Diggle inhaled deeply for he knew exactly what Roy was talking about - they had already discussed it in detail. "Someone needs to disguise themselves as Oliver and fight Brickwell's forces as the Arrow." The words were physically painful to utter because it further cemented Oliver's demise, but they needed to be said. It reminded him of what Oliver had said to him at the beginning of his crusade one day. ' _Facts don't care about your feelings, John. By killing the people on the List, I am cleansing this city - my city - of those who prey on others' misfortunes. These numbers don't lie, Dig. By killing these criminals and gangsters, I am making Starling City better.'_

Just like he knew would happen, Felicity jumped from her seat. "No! Why would you suggest such-"

"Because it's the truth, Felicity." Laurel interrupted with a frown and almost what sounded like a reproach in her tone. "Oliver is dead. We all wish he weren't, but it doesn't change the situation."

Roy nodded, "Exactly. Which is why I propose that I dawn the Arrow uniform."

"It's for the best that Roy masquerades as Oliver," Diggle said before anybody could disagree. "He's been trained by Oliver and if it were me under the Hood, people would know that I was an imposter; I'm black and the Arrow is definitively known to be Caucasian by now."

"Wouldn't people realize…" Laurel trailed off, obviously ruminating over their proposal. After several seconds, she tilted her head. "It could work, but Oliver is  _clearly_  a better, more skilled warrior."

Diggle nodded for he and Roy had already discussed that issue. "We have to play with the hand we've been dealt."

"How can you be so cavalier about this?" Felicity demanded. "That is Oliver's costume! This is his mission: to make Starling City safer."

"And it's up to us to finish what he started." Roy finished adamantly, eyes sad. "I truly wish he were here to finish his self-appointed mission, but we all know that he's not coming back."

Felicity's lips quivered before she slumped back into her chair. "Okay, Roy will do it." She said quietly, defeatedly.

Diggle had noticed that since Merlyn's evidence showing Oliver's death a month ago, Felicity had been acting  _strangely_. At first, he had thought that it was her process of grief, of mourning for the man she loved, but something didn't add up.

As the days passed, Diggle had begun to realize that there was more to Felicity's sudden anxiety and the guilt that was carved into her features when she thought nobody was paying attention. Then, one day, something clicked. He was pretty certain that he knew what weighed her down, the guilt that was blatant in her eyes, but he honestly didn't have the emotional strength to deal with Felicity's problems when he himself was still drowning under the knowledge that his best friend was dead.

"We need to consider another thing." Laurel suddenly said and her eyes were deadly serious. "Thea is still trapped in that  _motherfucker's_  grip. We need to get Malcolm Merlyn out of her life. He's a parasite who needs to die."

Roy inhaled sharply, "I've thought about it constantly since  _that_ day, but I honestly have no idea how to do that without telling Thea the entire truth. And even then I don't know if she would actually believe or accept it without Oliver here."

Diggle slumped against the table and hung his head in weariness. He honestly had no idea how Oliver had continuously dealt with all of the  _shit_  that life threw at him when Diggle was barely holding on with a situation that was a cakewalk compared to Oliver's.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Oliver studied the scars littering his body, squinting at the dull reflection in the dirty, streaked, mirror, adjusting his eyes to the dim light of the squalid room. The flesh was burnt, jagged, and coarse; it looked like a bear had almost mauled his chest. Then his eyes caught sight of the massive scar that was identical on his torso and on his back.

The wound that had killed him.

Sweat broke out on his forehead, matting his long hair from where it fell over his eyes. He tried not to hear the words, but they came despite his best efforts, filling his ears like the pounding of a fire alarm.

' _Rising from the cold hands of death, he came. From the Demon's blade, he survived his maim. A 'worthy heir' Ra's Al Ghul will proclaim.'_

To keep the words from drowning his mind, his eyes connected to Nyssa's slumbering form through the cracked mirror. He fully turned to her, blocking out the damned words. After many weary days of traveling through winter's fury, they had finally stumbled into an old town, no questions being asked when they had rented a single room, in spite of the fact that Oliver seemed obviously hurt and Nyssa exhausted. Yet, a statement had been made by the manager - a man with two stumps for legs who had been propped up in a poorly-made, rusty wheelchair - of the small, filthy inn when Nyssa had paid him.

" _You know, for something more substantial, my newest friends, a doctor can be procured who knows how to keep his mouth shut in the face of the law."_  The man was old, the flesh around his eyes sunken in, causing his ravaged eyes to bulge. Unkempt gray hair matted the sides of the man's balding head.

Oliver had swallowed and licked his lips, replying in whispered, flawless Spanish.  _"I'll let you know later."_

It wasn't that Oliver was truly injured, just mentally and physically exhausted. But he had proved to be more stubborn than Nyssa upon entering the small room. She hadn't argued when he had suggested that she rest while he take watch for however long she slept.

The look she had sent him was one of amusement, disapproval, and something that almost looked like fondness.

For several hours now, she had slept unaware of the passing of time, armor and layers discarded by the sagging bed, only wearing simple garbs that continually kept Oliver, despite his best efforts, staring at her every few minutes, eyes riveted at the smooth expanse of her skin.

He had always known that Nyssa was strikingly beautiful and exotic, attractive in many aspects, but it wasn't until his 'awakening' that he realized  _how_  utterly stunning and alluring she truly was. The thoughts of Felicity hadn't stopped him. In fact, they had been an annoyance, an irritating flame that refused to be doused out.

He had mused about the woman that he  _thought_  he had loved many a time since his death. He didn't love her. Oliver saw that now with the clarity of one who had tasted death, been held in its cold, eternal embrace. He sometimes wondered how he could have been so delusional. Was it the guilt of manipulating her about her  _obvious_  attraction for him against Slade? He didn't know and frankly, he didn't care.

Ray Palmer was a good, albeit an annoying man who would take care of his friend. Oliver had seen firsthand the care that the man held for Felicity. It was a care that Oliver never had for her, nor intended to.

Eyes roaming over Nyssa's resting body, he wondered. After several moments, he shook his head and lowered himself onto the hard, uncomfortable chair and rested his head against the wall, staring at her, trying not to imagine, but he failed.

He turned to the wall, shutting his eyes, blocking out anything but the truth. He needed sleep and he didn't want to wake Nyssa, desiring to give her at least a small gift for everything that she had done for him. Instead, he embraced the mindset of the Island, of a man who had kept his ears wide open while he rested, for a predator could easily sneak up on him and feast on his slumbering body.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A creak from outside of their room awakened him. It was sudden, familiarly echoing off into a sharp wounded cry, the sound piercing through the fog of sleep, diminishing in the distance of darkness. Oliver opened his eyes and saw Nyssa's body still asleep on the bed. The sound wasn't produced by her, so where did the familiar noise come from?

His eyes widened and he suddenly recognized when he had heard it before.

The staircase! It was the staircase in the rundown, filthy hallway outside of their room. Someone must have been walking up the steps and had then stopped, aware of the noise his weight had produced on the warped, squeaky, cracked wood.

Oliver's eyes darted to Nyssa's slumbering form. A normal customer at this rundown inn would have no such concerns as a small sound on the stairwell.

Silence.

Then,  _Creak._   _Creak. Creak._

Now closer! Multiple sounds, one after another. Oliver abruptly leaped from the chair and sprang to the wall by the door. In case he was just paranoid, he opted to let Nyssa rest. Surprisingly, she hadn't stirred. She was obviously exhausted from the journey through the winter's madness and doing all the work while Oliver had rested.

It was time to return the favor.

He crouched, hearing the stampede of footsteps - multiple potential attackers - and he discerned that the runners were no longer concerned with the hazard of noise. Now, they only wanted to reach their destination. Oliver suddenly realized what it was and he had no doubts about it; he was right only a few seconds later.

He should have wakened Nyssa.

The door crashed open and Oliver was ready, immediately smashing it back, throwing his full weight into the wood, pinning the attacker against the doorframe, a scream of pain muffled against the door.

Upon that instant, in the dark, thinly-veiled, and deadly place inside Oliver's mind, the Kapushion persona, the Hood persona roared with enthusiasm, taking firm control. He began to see through the eyes forged by Lian Yu, forged by the brutal teachers he learned under. Oliver Queen's world was nothing except ordinary, whereas the Hood's was extraordinary, running circles around Robert Queen's son's. Now, his mind cleared and he saw the world differently, through eyes shaped by truth. This world was secret, exclusive, and  _deadly_ , flaring like pure napalm throughout his mind, the radiant truth blinding.

"Shoot through the damn door! _"_  A high-pitched, squeaky voice yelled in Spanish.

Another voice responded in the same language. "But then we would hit Arturo!"

" _Hijo de puta!"_

Oliver ignored their conversation and dimly noticed out of the corner of his eye that Nyssa had spun off the bed, grabbing her sword that was near her head, and dove towards the door, eyes alight with the adrenaline of a fight just like his own. Their eyes connected and Oliver eased his pressure on the door slightly.

An arm immediately reached in and Nyssa didn't hesitate as she sliced the limb off in a clean stroke with her sword. A blood-curdling scream erupted behind the door and Oliver pulled the door back and smashed the toe of his left foot into the throat of the man who had fallen to his knees in disbelief and pain. A tuft of dirty, matted hair fell into his line of sight and Oliver gripped the hair and yanked the now-one-armed man inside.

Nyssa quickly plunged her blade through the man's back, killing him.

" _Mierda!"_  A shout echoed and Oliver snapped his fist up into another man's face, breaking the man's nose, projecting the broken bone upward at an angle through the man's brain, killing him. His body fell soundlessly.

A gun was suddenly pointed at him and when he saw the barrel, he reacted on instinct, years of survival training exploding in his mind like a detonating bomb. Oliver spun out of the way at the last second, the sound of a  _spit_  whizzing past his ears.

The arm holding the gun had come closer into the room and Oliver swiftly locked his own arms around the attacker's. Then he wrenched the man's arm - easily ignoring the sound of bones breaking and the scream of pain from the intruder - backward, gun barrel staring into the man's terrified, wide eyes. Oliver forced the man's own finger to pull the trigger and the gun fired, the bullet tearing through the man's eyeball and brain in a shower of red mist.

Nyssa had dealt with the last attacker and the man was collapsed on the floor, writhing, cringing, but clearly still alive. Oliver grabbed the fallen, silenced revolver and took a step forward and knelt, his knee pressing down into the man's chest, gun held painfully to the man's head.

" _¿Quién te envió?"_  Oliver demanded in a harsh whisper, fingers tearing brutally at the man's ear. Nyssa had begun to pull the bodies fully into the room and shut the door.

"No one sent us!" The man desperately replied in Spanish. "We saw you come earlier today!" At those words, he had a flash from his memory of a group of men huddled near the inn when he and Nyssa had arrived. In fact, he now recognized the sinewy face that stared up at him in terror. It was the same group. "We thought easy money!" The man's eyes darted to Nyssa and Oliver frowned at the movement.

He pressed the gun further into the man's skull, breaking the skin. "What else?"

The man further paled and his lips quivered, sweat pooling down his face.  _"Nada!_  I pr- promise!"

"I'm angry now,  _el mentiroso_. You better tell me why."

"The manager! He told us what room you two were in! That's all, I swear!" The man pleaded, but he was a poor liar.

"Now why don't I believe you?" Oliver removed the gun and the man swallowed in pure relief, lips stretched in pain, only to cry like a wounded animal when Oliver tilted the intruder's face down, ripping the ear out of its roots, smashing the man's head into the floor.

" _Pendejo!"_  The attacker screamed, sinking further to the ground. At the movement, Oliver felt a holster rub against his knee. He yanked the man's coat open, reached in, and pulled out another pistol. In one hand, he put the newly-acquired pistol in the back of his waistband. He then jammed the silenced revolver into the attacker's open mouth.

"Tell me what else,  _el mentiroso,_  or I'll blow the back of your head off! _"_  The man unleashed a throated wail of terror and Oliver withdrew the weapon, pressing it immediately under the man's chin.

"You're insane! We saw your woman!" The intruder whimpered, "We all thought she was beautiful." No more words passed his lips and Oliver gnashed his teeth together.

"And…?"

The man winced and bulging eyes darted towards Nyssa's confused eyes. "We were all going to tie her up in the car and ha- …have  _fun_." Tears spilled out of the man's eyes.

"What type of car?" Oliver hissed in a furious whisper, feeling an unholy rage swell within him, begging to be unleashed in an unstoppable hurricane. This group of men was going to  _rape_  Nyssa, the woman who had saved his life. That was unacceptable!

"Hyundai."

"And the color?" His finger itched against the trigger.

"Gray."

"Is there anyone else from your group outside save the manager?"

Hesitation was plastered across the man's pasty features and Oliver growled, smashing the gun onto the man's hands in rapid, brutal, consecutive strikes, blood freely flowing through the destroyed skin, turning the butt of the gun crimson.

"A man waiting on the second floor, you deranged murder!" Another wail echoed out of the man's throat.

"The man - what's he wearing?" Oliver demanded, not sure how long he could keep the rage at bay. It was like holding back a tide, one that could drown thousands of people in the blink of an eye.

"I don't know…"

Oliver's eyes lit up with fury and he cracked the gun across the man's head. "You better remember!" He snarled.

Tears fell out of the man's bloodshot, terrified eyes. "A brown coat! He's who has the keys for the car!"

The silenced pistol suddenly fired and the man's head was blown apart, chunks of his brain littering the now-blood-drenched carpet. Oliver stared down at the man in disgust, wishing he could kill him again for his plans about Nyssa.

"What happened? What did he say?" His companion suddenly asked and he looked at her.

"There's another man in the lobby waiting for us. He's wearing a brown coat and we're going to speak to him."

"Okay, but why did you kill him? He could have been useful, leverage that could have benefited us if he had lied."

Oliver stared at her for a moment. "They had planned to kidnap you and then rape you."

Seconds passed and then shock and fury were carved into her face, lips pulled back in a snarl. "Let me  _kill_  the last man, then."

"I'm not going to stop you."

Nyssa quickly gathered all of her layers and armor and packed them tightly into a separate bag that had been in her backpack. Oliver did the same, tossing them to her after he had put a shirt on. In the heat of the past few minutes, Oliver had been unaware of the pain; it was there, but it clearly didn't disable him. Nyssa slung the backpack across her back and nodded at him.

He walked out into the dimly lit hallway and Nyssa shut the door and they both stood there, motionless and soundless. Moments passed and suddenly there was a burst of laughter down the hall to their right. Oliver instinctively pressed his back against the wall and snapped his gun towards the sound, held unwaveringly and waiting. The laughter dimly diminished, trailing off in a few seconds; it was a drunkard's laughter, incoherent and useless.

Nyssa gently placed a hand on his shoulder and Oliver haltingly relaxed, slowly lowering the gun. Since they were on the highest floor of the three-level building, he knew that the final man would be on the second floor, waiting for the escaped prey or to help the now-dead men carry Nyssa away to a sentence worse than death. They soundlessly started down the staircase, weapons poised, remembering the man's words about the brown coat-wearing man, trying to listen for sounds of concealment.

Light pierced through the darkness gradually, alerting them that they were almost to the bottom. Oliver pointed at the shadow visible on the carpet, of a man shrouded in the short stretch between the end of the staircase and the beginning of another one.

Nyssa angled herself against his shoulder, trying to peek beyond the wall. After a moment, she pulled back and held up a single finger. Oliver nodded, lips twitching and he gripped the silenced revolver in his hand. A single breath, a few feet away from the target, and he raised the firearm into the dim light, into the shadows that surrounded the man as he pressed himself against the stairwell.

" _¿Arturo, por_ _qué…?"_  An arm appeared and Oliver fired a single shot, blowing the hand apart. " _Pendejo! Argh! Eres un cerdo asqueroso!"_  The man lurched out of the shadows in pain-induced adrenaline, incapable of aiming a weapon. Oliver fired again, hitting the man in his leg, and the man collapsed to the floor, sobbing like a child, flinching and thrashing.

"Are there any more of you?" Oliver whispered in Spanish, holding the weapon against the man's clammy forehead.

"No! Only us! Where's Arturo?" The man stammered out, lips stretched in agony.

"Dead," he growled out, dimly recognizing that Nyssa had stepped next to him, glaring down hatefully at the last man. "And if you don't want me to kill you, you will answer the questions I have."

" _Sí, sí!_ Anything!"

Oliver smiled thinly. "Good. Did you threaten the manager or did he freely contact you?"

"He called us!" The man cried out, his now-single hand gripping the carpet tightly. "We pay that legless coward a share of whatever we loot from new customers!"

"And you were going to kill us?"

The man's eyes flashed with fury. "You're one to talk,  _el asesino!_  But no, you both were going to be taken and then killed later."

"Where? How? Why?" He demanded, pressing the pistol painfully into the man's skin.

"I was to meet Arturo and pull around the car. This town is trash. Nobody cares! We could kill a child and nobody would bat an eye. We were going to rape your woman and make you watch,  _el asesino!"_

"That's terrific," Oliver snarled, spittle spraying the man's terrified, angry, rebellious face. He felt his throat protest, but he ignored the waves of pain; it was something that he was quite good at nowadays. "You're not only a fucking scumbag, but you're also quite the Good Samaritan. Now, where's your car?"

The man laughed raggedly, "You're insane! I'm not telling you that!"

Oliver's eyes narrowed to slits, lips pulled back into a hideous sneer. He pistol-whipped the man across his temple, "Tell me where your  _fucking_  car is!"

The man apparently was smarter than he looked for he answered. "Outside, near the inn."

"And the color?" He asked again, wanting to make sure that the man wasn't attempting to deceive him.

"Gray, a gray Hyundai!"

"Good, now give me the keys."

The man's eyes widened and he pushed away pitifully, rolling towards the wall. "No, no!" He screamed.

Oliver smashed his foot into the man's wounded thigh and the man screeched in pain. "Pocket! Jacket pocket!"

"The car keys are in his jacket pocket." He said in English and turned to Nyssa slightly. "Grab them while I make sure this bastard doesn't try anything."

Nyssa nodded and she quickly found the keys and also took the man's gun, placing it into Oliver's waistband before he could even react. "Here, you're obviously skilled with firearms." She whispered and her body was aligned right next to his own.

He ignored the feel of her fingers on his heated skin and released the man. "Get up!" He switched to English and glanced at Nyssa. "He's all yours."

"No! I told you everything!" The man apparently knew a little English as he scratched at the floor like a desperate beast, understanding Oliver's words to Nyssa as he shrieked in Spanish. "You promised!"

Oliver smiled coldly down at the man's pathetic form. "You're right. I did promise that I wouldn't kill you, but I said nothing about whom you referred to as  _'my woman'_."

" _Por favor, la clemencia!_  Mercy!"

Nyssa pulled her sword out of her scabbard silently and took one look at the man, then at Oliver. "Tell him that no woman should ever suffer at the hands of a man and that I will take great pleasure in robbing him of his pride."

Oliver hastily whispered Nyssa's words and the man squealed like a pig! "No! No,  _por favor!"_

In the blink of an eye, Nyssa plunged her blade into the man's groin area, destroying the precious organ. Despite himself, Oliver shivered uncontrollably at the sight, unconsciously squeezing his thighs together, protecting his own manhood.

An agonizing, hysterical shriek was unleashed from the man's mouth and Nyssa swiftly smashed her foot into the man's throat, crushing the larynx and windpipe. Oliver flinched and gently massaged his own deformed throat as the man gargled and gasped soundlessly, eyes bulging from his sockets, lips quickly turning blue.

Nyssa pulled her sword out of the dead man's groin and looked at Oliver, wincing in apology. "I'm sorry, that was inconsiderate. I didn't think of how that would affect you."

"Don't worry about it," he shook his head for good measure, feeling his throat ache. "Let's get out of here. Those keys are to a gray Hyundai. We can drive it until it runs out of gas."

Nervousness crossed over Nyssa's features and her lips pursed. "I don't know how to drive a car."

Oliver blinked and scratched his beard, suddenly feeling all of the pain and weariness from the past minutes. "Okay, I'll drive. You get more rest, but first, we need to talk to the manager."

Nyssa nodded and pulled the man's corpse into the shadows where he wouldn't be seen for hours. She then approached him slowly and Oliver realized that he was shaking, body quivering with pent-up rage and energy. She cautiously laid a hand on his tense shoulder, eyes soft. "Are you okay?"

"I will be shortly," he said softly and smiled at her tiredly. "Let's visit that legless dinosaur."

Their footsteps were silent as they descended the last staircase and approached the man behind the desk from the other side of the building. They hugged the wall and after several seconds of observing the manager, Oliver stepped away from the wall, into the light.

"Impossible!" The man cried out in his native tongue, his stumps that fell over the chair kicking like a baby.  _"¿_ _Qué quieres?"_  The manager shook his head, chest heaving.

"Why did you contact those men?" Oliver demanded in Spanish in a harsh, raspy whisper, leaning forward, pistol concealed behind his back.

The legless man's fingers curled over his wheelchair, gripping tightly, skin white from the pressure. " _Necesito dinero!_  Who doesn't? What else can I do? I cannot take major risks, only minor."

"It was a mistake - not a risk - to contact those men about us." Oliver corrected darkly.

The man's face cracked, fear visible. "I was content before I met you and your beautiful wife!" Oliver raised a brow at the man's assumption but didn't correct him. It made for a good cover. "I've had a decent life,  _señor_ , acquiring money from customers every time some poor soul wandered into this filthy town. I had a good system going with Arturo and his crew, but then  _you_  found me."

"I'm quite touched," he broke in flatly. "Now, you're going to tell me the route best taken to get away from this area. I wish to return home."

"Home'?" The legless manager's eyes lit up with rage and his voice rose. "You ruined my home, _señor!_  Now I have  _nothing!"_  Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver saw Nyssa silently draw her sword, but he waved her off, letting her know that he had it handled.

"And whose fault is that?" He asked rhetorically, gripping his pistol tightly. "How about this: you tell me the route out of here and you  _won't_  die today?"

"You're insane!" The man cried, eyes stubbornly blazing with fire.

Oliver stepped closer, looming over the man, eyes black as night. "I'm  _really_  sick of hearing that phrase. If you don't cooperate, I'll kill you  _and_  take all your stolen money."

"Fine,  _señor._ Let me grab a pencil and write directions." The man swiveled in his wheelchair and entered a back room.

Oliver sighed tiredly and put the pistol in the front of his waistband, opposite of the other two weapons. He turned to Nyssa, "He's going to give us directions out of this shithole."

She raised a brow, "I'm impressed, Oliver. I can't even do what you just did. All of the interrogating and gathering information. I don't know how. At least with the efficiency that you yourself just showed."

A huff of amusement escaped his lips and he moved away from her, walking aimlessly to the smeared window, staring outside. "You can thank A.R.G.U.S. for that particular skill." He said softly, looking into the squalor that was called a town. It explained the attackers and legless manager.

Nyssa stepped next to him, fingers soothingly kneading his neck. "Everything that you've gone through has made you the man you are now. And honestly, I like the man you are. You are worthy, Oliver. If I had met you before the Island, I probably would have killed you for we  _both_  know that you would have undoubtedly flirted with me."

Oliver's lips twitched and he looked down at her, "Yeah, you're right," he conceded, staring into Nyssa's understanding, hypnotic eyes. "You are strikingly beautiful and pre-Island Oliver would have approached you arrogantly, trying to get in your pants, searching for a good fuck. If there's one thing that I'm thankful for right now that the Island taught me, more than anything, it would be that because of the hardships, I have connected with you in a way that I've never really 'clicked' with anyone else. We understand each other."

Her eyes softened and Nyssa leaned closer into him, head brushing against his shoulder for a moment. "I won't ever regret my actions on the ravine that day." She said quietly and Oliver felt emotions flood him at her words. "You are a great man, the best I've ever met, and I'm thankful that I have gotten to connect with you, too and I'm grateful that we understand each other."

A movement. The mindset of the Island, of Kapushion, hadn't left him and he recognized the feeling bearing down on his mind.

An enemy was near.

He whirled around, panic raging through him, Nyssa following his movements in an act of trust. The legless manager had just rolled out of the back room and his hands were holding a sawed-off, double-barrelled shotgun; the man's eyes resembled flames of a crackling fire, his ravaged face contorted into a sickening mass of animalistic fury.

"Now you will never see your home,  _señor!"_ The deformed man screamed and before the manager fired, Oliver instinctually shoved Nyssa to the ground and fell on top of her, but he hadn't been fast enough.

The shot came rapidly, the searing pain filling his arm, scorching his nerves and rage swiftly overtook the agony, distracting him from the fact that he had been so  _careless!_ Another shot swiftly exploded and the window above them shattered in a shower of deadly glass. Oliver grit his teeth as several shards of the now-broken glass embedded in his back.

Nyssa's face was beneath his own, eyes burning with urgency. In one smooth motion, he rolled off of her, lunging into the desk, injured arm and shoulder smashing into the wood, sending the now-toppling desk into the wheelchair-bound man.

The legless manager had fallen out of his chair and was writhing on the floor, desk covering half of his torso, stumps banging against the wood in protest as spit sprayed out of his foaming, snarling mouth. "You won't put me in a hole in the ground,  _señor!_ I'll see you both in hell!"

Oliver pulled out his pistol and sprang over the toppled desk, firing the gun with unwavering accuracy. The manager's head snapped back, his throat erupting in a gushing, torrential shower of blood, staining his fallen chest with an imperfect red tie.

Breaths came in harsh pants as Oliver stared down at the now dead man, hand clutching his left arm, feeling the small amount of blood that had drifted out of his wound.

"Let me see. How bad is it?" Nyssa was pulling his blood-stained fingers away and her lips pinched in displeasure. "Well, we're going to have to dig the bullet out," she said quietly, looking forlorn. With her other hand, she began to delicately pick out all of the large shards of glass in his back. "At least it's not worse," she said after a moment. "You know, you didn't have to do that."

Oliver looked down at her, feeling the weariness plaguing his limbs. "What?"

"You didn't need to push me out of the way."

"Yes, I did. We're partners now, in this situation together. Our survival resolutely depends on one another."

She sighed, sending a small look of thanks up at him. "Let's just get out of this town. Now that we have a car, it should make our journey that much faster."

"First, I need to find a map." He muttered, feeling his throat ache almost unbearably.

"No,  _I need_  to find a map." Nyssa said adamantly, "You did most of the work by fighting. Let me procure the map, okay, Oliver?"

He stared down at her, memorizing her steady, striking features and slowly nodded. "Okay, okay. Just try to be quick. There's bound to be people coming, questioning the noises. Steal it quickly!"

"Believe it or not, you're not the only one who has stolen before."

XxXxXxXxXxX

**That's all for this one, folks! I really hope you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun writing this one, especially the scenes with Oliver being a badass.**

****Oliver and Nyssa begin their journey back to Starling City while Maseo travels back to Nanda Parbat. In case it wasn't clear, a month has passed since the last chapter where Oliver heard the prophecies via Nyssa and Maseo, Laurel learned the truth about Sara from Malcolm of all people, and Felicity had sex with Ray.**

****Yes, the events in the show in regard to Daniel Brickwell and the Glades are currently happening during this. If I'm being honest, I don't want to write it out. Pretty much the events that happened in Canon have happened in this story because I couldn't think of anything better for the 'Arrow Team' to be doing while Oliver recovers from the duel with Ra's Al Ghul - pretty lazy, I know.**

****If you believe either Oliver or Nyssa was too dark in this chapter, I disagree. They are both** **assassins** **, even Oliver. They're both killers and now with Oliver having clarity after experiencing death, he recognizes what needs to be done. And plus, the men were going to rape Nyssa, so I don't think anyone will have too big a problem with their deaths. I think one of them is rather poetic, actually. And I won't apologize for having this one mainly Oliver and Nyssa-centric. Those scenes were entertaining to write, to say the least. I believe those scenes are a culmination of all the spy thriller books I've read. I think they came out all right, at least.**

**I'm pretty sure that's all of my reasoning for what I did and kind of a summary of sorts. I hope you all liked this chapter and if you have questions, feel free to ask it. See y'all next time!**

_**Stay Safe  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


	6. Chapter 5

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I really appreciate it! It makes my day every time I see a new one.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** _**Arrow** _ **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** _**Arrow** _ **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

Oliver had spotted the car easily and now Nyssa watched as he drove the poor-quality vehicle, every so often glancing at the roadmap that she had unearthed from a drawer in that pathetic, deformed man's back room.

Before they had departed, Nyssa had used her blade to dig the bullet out of Oliver's left arm, trying to be as quick and proficient as possible, but it had been hard. She had realized as the blood glimmered off her sword that inflicting pain, however unavoidable and unintentional, on Oliver wasn't something that she relished. Rather the opposite, actually.

She had dug deep into his arm, twisting the deadly blade into the wound, trying to catch a metallic glimpse of the bullet. Oliver hadn't uttered a sound while she focused, surprising her for she wasn't even certain that she herself could withstand such a painful breach against her person without a single protest or noise. The only reaction that had given away the fact that he was hurting was the clench of his jaw every so often.

After much struggle to find that accursed bullet, Nyssa had stitched the wound closed, wrapping a piece of cloth around it for protection against the viral contaminants that  _undoubtedly_  thrived in that squalor of a town.

"How long will this vehicle continue to operate?" She questioned, staring at the one hand that held the wheel so casually, so effortlessly that Nyssa was reminded that Oliver Queen had grown up in one of the most technology-thriving cities in the world, was once a very rich man, and that he had driven vehicles since he was a teenager.

It was something that Nyssa had always wanted to attempt, but she hadn't dared voice her desire to her father.

"Luckily for us, it was almost at a full tank when we got it. It should last us another hundred miles or so,  _at the least._ "

Nyssa hummed at his whispered words and glanced out the window, watching the snow-stained trees blur together into a majestic collage of winter's beauty, of her immaculate power. It actually reminded her of the man next to her.

When those pathetic, cowardly  _men_  had attacked them, they had been quickly dealt with, but that wasn't what had surprised Nyssa. No. What had shocked her was that Oliver had  _interrogated_  them in such an efficient, rapid strategy that within several minutes, he had procured their motive, their car, their keys, the knowledge of a final man, and what the manager's role was.

It was remarkable.

She highly doubted her father could do something like that; no League-trained person could. Nyssa had always prided herself on her ability to gather information during missions, but now she realized how  _outclassed_  she was by Oliver in that regard, and in many others as she learned more and more about her companion.

Her father's scorn for the agency known as A.R.G.U.S. was well known in League circles, and Nyssa herself shared his disdain for the arrogant government organization. She had encountered several of their top agents and had quickly dispatched them, mentally mocking A.R.G.U.S.' training, their hand-to-hand combat potential.

Now, she realized that A.R.G.U.S. might be even less than _a child_  compared to the League of Assassins in terms of combat, but the master organization of espionage seemed to be A.R.G.U.S. if Oliver's unmatched skills at it were any indication.

How did such a man receive training that put Nyssa herself to shame when he started  _years_  after she had and without the watchful eye of Ra's Al Ghul? Where did Oliver acquire all of the skills and knowledge that he possessed?

The memory of Oliver whispering her elder sister's name entered her mind, causing theories to form and evolve.

"Where did you learn to fight?" She asked, only realizing that she had spoken in Russian after the words had left her lips.

He glanced at her, a single eyebrow quirked in what looked like amusement. "From many people," his Russian words were quiet, yet crisp, unaccented.

She suddenly yearned to have a conversation in Russian with someone other than her father. "From whom, though?" Her mother's native tongue was a relief to use aloud after so long. "How are you so skilled when you've never trained under my father? You're more skilled than  _I am._  I just wish to know more about how you came to be  _you_ , a man who I greatly admire."

"Yao Fei, a man who was trapped on the Island with me, taught me how to survive." Nyssa didn't dare interrupt, almost aching to understand more about the man she was fascinated by. "Slade taught me how to fight, the foundations of everything I know. He was a harsh, yet good teacher, a good  _friend._ " The sadness and regret was tangible in his whispered Russian words and she tried to imagine it but had trouble doing so. "A.R.G.U.S… then molded me into a weapon, a perfect soldier and spy. They  _forcefully_  ingrained the knowledge and skills of Guerilla warfare, piloting, interrogation, torture, disguises, firearms, tracking, stealth, infiltration, espionage, special forces training, forensic analysis, acrobatics, languages - which was how I learned Spanish, if you were wondering; since it's the second most-spoken language in the world, they figured I should know it, I suppose. It was brutal being under their watchful eyes, Amanda Waller ordering whomever she so pleased and had no qualms about what her  _prisoners_  wanted. Because that's what I was, Nyssa, a  _prisoner._  And then I even learned hacking - although mine pales in comparison to Felicity's."

"The blonde?"

A dark frown crossed over Oliver's face and Nyssa wondered what the reason was. "Yeah,  _the blonde._  After the A.R.G.U.S. missions collapsed, I was free to go where ever it was I wished, but I actually chose not to go home."

"Why?"

"I didn't have a purpose to," a shrug accompanied his words as they passed what looked like an abandoned fuel station. "At that point, I thought it would be wrong to go home. I knew how to lie and create personalities against targets, but if I traveled back to Starling City…"

"The targets would have been your own family." Nyssa finished quietly.

"Yeah, and it was with a heavy heart that I made my decision to continue my journey of self-discovery. I had realized that I myself wasn't ready to be back in the spotlight of the world. I had learned to thrive in the shadows, a ghost that vanished like smoke. I still prefer that over being a celebrity." The words were uttered so softly that Nyssa barely heard them.

After a moment, she urged him to continue. "What happened?"

"I made my way to Russia." A fondness entered his tone and Nyssa was riveted on him, watching his features in the pale light visible under the sheen of light-reflecting snow. "I spent a few months in an underground cage fighting-to-the-death syndicate and I had made quite a name for myself. That's where I caught the eye of the  _Bratva._ " Nyssa's eyes widened and she didn't dare speak, not wishing for her companion to take back his words of revelation. "In their words, my reputation was as notorious as it was blood-soaked. Then, to my delighted surprise, I learned that one of the major captains of the Bratva was my old friend, Anatoli from the Island. At my friend's urging, I was soon conscripted in the organization and worked my way up the ranks, garnering attention from some  _fear-plagued_  men. I helped Anatoli become the new Pakhan by overthrowing the old Pakhan at the time, a selfish prick who tried to have me killed multiple times. I was then ranked as a Captain of the Bratva, second only to the Pakhan."

Nyssa was unafraid to admit that she was in awe of the man next to her. He continued to surprise her for the Bratva were very difficult to gain leverage over, and nonetheless, infiltrate - who knows how many Shadows her father had dispatched over the years for that lone reason? Ra's Al Ghul had been trying, ever since she was a young girl, to obliterate their organization, but new Pakhans would always surface, keeping the philosophy of the Bratva at large. Actually, now that she thought about it, her father had mentioned nothing of the Russian organization in over five years. Was that because of Oliver's friend?

She shook her head and questioned, "What else?"

"During my time with the Bratva I was given the name Kapiushon and the legend of Kapiushon had spread far, drawing the attention of a woman who then taught me that men who embrace the dark will never be without sight. It's something that I've forgotten since… Tommy died, actually."

"And her name?" She asked softly, almost hesitantly.

Oliver's head jerked toward her, but it was only for a second. "Her name was Talia."

Emotions welled within her, threatening to consume her whole, but Nyssa refused to allow it. "Who was she to you?"

"A mentor and a wise, grief-filled woman who showed me the truth. She taught me that becoming a monster is sometimes necessary in the ocean of this world. From what she shared, she had taught Yao Fei everything he knew and she herself, by her own words, was a lot older than she looked…" he trailed off and a strange look crossed his features. His head snapped to hers so fast that Nyssa almost gasped. Dark, searching eyes pierced through her defenses and she was wary that he could see her vulnerability. A disbelieving breath of air escaped his lips and he pulled the car to the side of the road, engine running. "I don't believe it. I've finally figured it out."

"Figured out what?"

"Talia is your sister. She's the one whom you mentioned when we were talking about your legacy." The whispered words floated in the air of the vehicle, the sound of the engine rumbling in the background. "Talia  _Al Ghul._  How could I have been so obtuse? So blind? The clues were  _there_ , especially since you told me about the Lazarus Pit. She had mentioned something like it, something about a family secret."

Nyssa licked her lips, unable to keep the question from forming on her tongue. "What was she like?" At his searching look, she swallowed, "I never met her. I was conceived after my father exiled her, and all I know about her is that of her betrayal and cowardice."

"Ahh. That makes sense. She had spoken only once about her father in a mixture of saddened fury." He fully turned toward her, eyes telling her that it was okay to mourn for the opportunities that she was never given. "Your sister was a good woman. She was highly intelligent, wise, calculating, and level-headed. Her emotions were compacted away, only showing me glimpses of the woman she once was. She was reserved, although never timid, willing to admonish me for my selfish behavior. She motivated me, she encouraged me, guiding me as I had lost focus on my father's last wish. I only knew her for a few months - actually, I've spent  _a lot_  more time with you than I ever did with her - but I'm thankful that she sought me out and rejuvenated the promise I made to my father before he killed himself."

"Your father killed himself?" Nyssa breathed out in astonishment, wondering if there was  _anything_  that Oliver hadn't been forced to grapple with.

"Right in front of me, a bullet through his brain. He knew that only one of us was going to survive and he had decided without my input that the lone survivor wouldn't be him." His eyes clouded, memories that she would never experience flashing in his depths. "He committed suicide… so that I would live."

Nyssa wondered how she would feel if she watched her father commit suicide and she realized she couldn't picture it. It was unthinkable! Ra's Al Ghul  _couldn't_  die. He was invincible, the most dangerous man in the world. Despite not knowing what Oliver was feeling, she reached out and gripped his hand. "Do you blame yourself?"

His eyes locked onto her own and she was startled by the emotions brimming in his dark eyes. "Yeah, I guess I do. If it weren't for me, my dad wouldn't have been forced to kill himself. Everything that's gone bad since then, started after  _that_ moment."

She squeezed his hands and tried to recall everything she knew about the man next to her, searching for the name of Oliver's father. After a moment, her lips curled softly and she opened her eyes, "Robert Queen was a warrior like his great son. Because of his selfless sacrifice, you are here and have the chance to leave a legacy that will be history."

"Thank you," he whispered and he stared at her in a way that caused her to stop breathing, struck by the look in his eyes. Suddenly, it was gone, replaced by a smile. "Speaking of that. What are you going to do after this whole… kill-your-father crusade is completed?"

Nyssa inhaled slowly, trying to buy time. "Well, I don't know," she confessed, feeling ashamed.

Her eyes darted toward Oliver as he unleashed a huff of laughter. "Well, that makes two of us. You're not alone, don't worry."

"I'm glad I'm not alone," she said quietly, knowing that it was the absolute truth. She enjoyed Oliver's presence more than even Sara herself because, with Oliver, she felt that he  _actually_  understood her in ways that Sara never had. Ra's Al Ghul's expectations have borne down on her ever since she could remember, and Sara didn't ever truly grasp how  _hard_  it was to be his daughter.

Whereas Oliver had had expectations thrust upon him by his dying father when he had had no training or experience, thrown into the lion's den just like Nyssa herself had been. He had continuously triumphed over everything that life had barrelled at him, never complaining or quitting when it became hard.

Unlike Sara.

After her initial stage of mourning, Nyssa had begun to realize that beneath her grief, there was a terrible fury towards Sara. After  _Malcolm Merlyn's_  code-violating Undertaking, Nyssa had known that Sara was consumed with the need to know if her family - the Lances - were okay, for it had been confessed during the return of a mission where they had assassinated a diplomat who had become the focus of Ra's Al Ghul's ire.

Then, with no warning, Sara had left, fleeing from Nanda Parbat and had gone to Starling City, leaving Nyssa shell-shocked and verging on the edge of distraught.

Nyssa - to show Sara that she still cared about her no matter her reckless, hurtful actions - was barely able to quell her father's wrath from killing Sara after she had abandoned her duty. She had promised her father that Sara would return with haste, for it was only her old life claiming control upon the news of  _Malcolm Merlyn's_  Undertaking. Then weeks had passed with no dispatched Shadows returning, and Nyssa had become worried, dreading what was to come. And when Al-Owal himself hadn't returned after over a week since his mission to fetch Sara, she had become  _terrified_.

She knew what that meant, and she also knew that there would be  _no chance_  for Sara to escape her father's blade in spite of whatever Nyssa pleaded. Recognizing that things were falling apart at the seams, Nyssa had churned with fear and anxiety until finally, she had told her father that Sara would never commit such vile, treasonous actions. She had then planted the seed in Ra's Al Ghul's mind that the  _Arrow_ , the green-hooded vigilante in Starling City who

Sara had spoken of in such admiration, was responsible for the deaths of his loyal Shadows.

She had then requested leave to find Sara and to gather intelligence about the vigilante who dared to murder Ra's Al Ghul's Shadows. Her father had stared down at her, eyes piercing through every defense she could possibly erect, viewing the true reason for her urge to depart, detecting the lies about the hero of Starling City.  _"You wish for Ta-er al-Asfar to be your beloved."_  His words had been cold, verging on disgust.

Nyssa had swallowed and gathered her courage, trying to summon the strength that Talia must have utilized to welcome their father's disdain.  _"And you don't approve."_

" _I don't approve of your illogical, foolish devotion to a woman who would leave you and her duties to me for an emotional fear about her former life. Ta-er al-Asfar, even if she were born a man, would never be worthy of your hand. You will never give her your maidenhead, Nyssa. Only a man of my choosing will ever fill your womb with child, continuing my bloodline with one who is worthy. If you seek to earn my throne, ponder the consequences of your potential 'love' with whom you call 'Sara', my child."_

At that moment, Nyssa had known with certainty that she would never become the Demon's Head.  _"I will depart and bring Ta-er al-Asfar back to Nanda Parbat to face your judgment for her betrayal."_

She had immediately trekked to Starling City, willing to use any means necessary to force Sara to return, but when she had been faced with the thought of losing Sara forever, she had released her in the name of her father, an occurrence only to happen for the second time in his reign as the Demon's Head.

She had been heartbroken, brimming with anguish and betrayal as Sara had blatantly displayed her contempt for the League, for the life that Nyssa had gifted her years ago when she had been unwilling to kill the poor, broken, starving woman on the shores of Lian Yu.

When she had returned to Nanda Parbat empty-handed, she had solemnly kneeled before her father, wondering if he was going to exile her like he had Talia, or if he would actually kill her.

" _I've always known of your tendency for insolence, but I had hoped you would cease to allow such a foul inclination to control your judgment, daughter."_  Ra's Al Ghul's disappointment had borne down on her, breaking her heart even further.  _"You betrayed me, something I had hoped to avoid for a second time in regards to my children. Ta-er al-Asfar is a traitor to the League, and I'm sorely tempted to brand you the same."_  Nyssa's eyes had darted upward, directly into her father's narrowed gaze, swallowed whole by the anger shining in his dark orbs.  _"Instead, you will live with the consequences of losing my trust and your claim to my throne. That is your punishment, Nyssa. If you ever somehow earn either back, just know that if a situation such as this occurs again, your insolence will be the agent for your painful demise, daughter."_

A few months had passed in a haze, mind clouded with the memory of Sara choosing death over being with Nyssa in the League. How could she? Why would she succumb to such selfish impulses? Because of Sara's actions, Nyssa had lost everything! Perhaps she should have let Sara die all of those years ago, allowing her to still claim to be the Heir to the Demon's Head.

Then during Slade Wilson's siege on Starling City, which had caught her father's eye, he had deployed her and a platoon of Shadows to the city in hopes of killing off the abomination that was the  _Mirakuru_. Upon their arrival, Sara had appeared, desperately imploring their aid, wrongly assuming that they were there to apprehend her. Nyssa had seen an opportunity and swiftly agreed to 'aid' Starling City in exchange for Sara to rejoin the League, swearing fealty to Ra's Al Ghul once more.

A whole summer had passed after the Mirakuru-enhanced army attacked Starling and Nyssa had been able to unconvincingly convince her father that Sara was loyal to him. Instead of focusing on her father's continued absence of trust towards her, she had focused on trying to mend wounds with Sara.

But before any true reconciliation had occurred,  _Malcolm Merlyn_  murdered Sara, manipulating his own daughter to do the deed so his hands would 'technically' be clean of the blood spilled.

Now, looking at Oliver as he pulled the car back onto the road, she wondered if she had found someone who would stay by her side no matter what.

"I'm angry at Sara," she said suddenly, surprising herself as the Russian-whispered words floated in the air of the vehicle. "For too long, I've been making excuses, but I can't escape the truth of what I feel. I'm furious."

"Me too," his words were just as soft and truthful. "An unholy hatred for this entire situation burns in my resurrected heart." His hand slowly reached over and his calloused-fingers wrapped gently around her own. "I'm angry at Malcolm, Thea, Felicity, Slade, my parents, and almost everybody. I'm still angry at Sara, as well. Maybe it's part of the mourning process, as a psychologist would say, but I don't fucking care. For years, she refused to let me know that she had survived. For five years, I drowned under the guilt of watching Sara die, but she was still alive, unbeknownst to me. And don't even get me started on my sister." His hand squeezed hers painfully, and she was slightly worried that he might break her fingers. "For  _months,_  I didn't know where Thea was, but then I discover that she trusted Malcolm fucking Merlyn." His eyes connected with her own and Nyssa was swallowed by the blackness of his eyes, the fierce, animalistic glow. "Whether she was under the effects of Votura, it doesn't matter. She killed Sara because she stupidly chose to place her trust in Malcolm. She didn't come to me or anything. She knew of the Undertaking and Tommy's demise, but she blatantly, stupidly ignored all of the evidence. She trusted a known murderer over her own brother."

"Sara left me," she confessed, feeling his painful grip on her fingers subside. "She just  _left_ , and I was left alone to face my father's ire towards Sara. He never approved of our relationship, you know. But when she abandoned me, she proved all my father's accusations true."

"And now she will never get the opportunity to apologize, right? That's the true root of the anger, isn't it? Sara never realized how much she wounded you, however unintentionally, and continued on as if things hadn't changed."

"Yeah, at least part of it." She glanced out the window at the blurring trees. "The abandonment plays a big role, too."

"I'd imagine that it does,"

"And you speak from experience?"

Oliver quite suddenly laughed, "Yes, I do. When I learned that it was Malcolm who had condemned me to Lian Yu, to watching my father kill himself, I was shocked, of course. The man is my godfather for shit's sake. My entire life, all I'd heard was how rich my family was, how the Queen's blew the rest of the competition out of the water. Malcolm was not as rich, but the Undertaking was  _his_  idea, and my father wasn't Caesar like everyone had believed. Rather, it was Malcolm who became Caesar reincarnated and my father was Brutus. As history had declared, Brutus clashed against his master, but this time, the winds of fate had deemed a different course." Hands clenched tightly, the sound a warning, the brink of an eruption. "Brutus was killed by Caesar, abandoning his innocent-eyed son to Purgatory."

"You feel abandoned by your father?" She asked in disbelief.

A pause before a short sigh, "Yes. As long as I can remember, I looked up to my father just as all sons are in awe of their fathers. I always thought he'd have my back, you know. He was my  _dad._  Then that fantasy shattered when the Gambit sank and my father refused to live on. He blew his brains out with a confession of crimes I never knew about. He left me alone on Lian Yu with his dismembered memory. I was abandoned by my father, but I also recognize that I was saved by him, too."

"You were blessed,"

"I know."

"I wish I knew what that felt like," Nyssa whispered.

Oliver turned toward her, one hand on the wheel. "You might never experience what I did, but you will experience the end of your father's reign, of his control over your life. I promise."

A small, grateful smile played over her lips, "I can see why Sara loved you. You're a good man."

"Not many would agree with that conclusion, you know."

"I don't care because I know the full picture, and they don't. I've known you for a while now, registering your actions and words ever since, and I guarantee that if anybody, and I mean  _anybody,_  knew what I did, then you would be the world's greatest man."

Oliver shook his head slightly, but a slight smiled twitched over his features. "You reap high praise, Nyssa."

"You can live up to it,"

He glanced at her and she was struck by the intensity behind his eyes. "I intend to,"

She smiled genuinely, "I commend you. Accepting one's destiny is never easy."

"And is that something your father taught you?"

"Yes, how did you know?" She questioned with a frown.

"Because your sister said that to me a long time ago."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The wind whipped around, mocking as the air was stifling, the air of a conquered district. Homes were abandoned and various pillars of flames could be seen from the distance, but all that blanketed fully was the night sky.

Roy watched through the helmet's visor as various gas stations, thrift stores, and markets blurred by, nausea threatening to overwhelm him. He was dressed in Oliver's suit, proudly showcasing to Starling City that the 'Arrow' hadn't forsaken them in their time of desperate need.

He couldn't remember a time in his life when he had felt so nervous, so scared to push forward. He knew better than anyone that he wasn't ready to replace Oliver - nobody could replace his mentor! If the city's situation wasn't so dire, he and Diggle might not have been forced to take such drastic measures to ensure the 'Arrow' appeared publicly.

" _Hey, this isn't going to work. You need to turn back. I think we all need to rethink this situation."_

Roy frowned and revved the bike to show his displeasure. "We don't really have any other options, Felicity." He said into his earpiece, trying not to look at the _green_  of the suit, trying to pretend it was red; he was not successful. "We'll be fine. I've been trained by Oliver."

" _Partly trained by Oliver,"_  Felicity corrected.

"It doesn't matter!" Laurel yelled, her arms squeezing around his chest almost painfully. "Unless you want the Glades to return to its former shame, then stop pestering me and Roy, Felicity."

Diggle's voice broke through,  _"Remember, when you arrive, Brickwell's fortress will be heavily guarded. We don't want them to know you are there, so the comms will be disconnected. Keep your senses on alert, and if things get out of hand, get out of there immediately. Try not to be Oliver, okay? He made things that are insanely difficult look painlessly easy."_

"We'll do our best," he muttered sarcastically and powered off the communication device as they passed another raided gas station. It saddened him to see how far the Glades had fallen since Brick's takeover.

It was something he intended to rectify.

Several meters ahead, he spotted a figure dart into an alley, and he knew that they were close. Roy drove into the alley and pulled off to the side, obscuring the bike behind a large dumpster. Laurel's arms quickly unwound from his chest and he felt her hop off the seat, landing with a confidence that he himself lacked.

He felt the bow across his back; it was secure and offered a solace in the dead of the night when they were in enemy territory. He motioned for Laurel to follow as he started through the darkness of the alley, hugging the brick walls, eyes roaming everywhere.

The glare of several fire pits fluttered into his line of sight, painfully reminding him that neither he nor Laurel could be seen. They must stay hidden! This was a simple reconnaissance mission, that's all.

Roy reached the edge of the brick wall, a gravel lot on his side leading to a house. He swallowed and inched forward, immediately pulling back when he caught sight of several goons.

"How many?" Laurel hissed quietly, her eyes wide.

"Too many," he grunted and arched his neck to the other end. "That way. We're never going to get out of here alive if we stay over here."

As he silently encroached the lot, he took in the house. An open terrace was visible, lines of windows broadcasting light to goons outside. Figures were milling about, some muted in the darkness while others broadly let themselves be seen.

They were all men, standing instead of sitting, moving predatorily, military-grade weapons clutched in their palms greedily. Cigarette smoke spiraled throughout the air, the smell a slap back to reality.

Laurel froze and Roy immediately crouched, ready to pull an arrow. "What is it?"

"That's him, isn't it?" She whispered, shakily pointing to one of the windows.

Roy stiffened as he caught a glimpse of Brickwell motioning wildly to a group of muscular men, the bald head a beacon to his eyes. "Yes, now  _move!"_  He scrambled after Laurel, hedging himself against her as laughter echoed. It faded with amused chuckles and Roy scowled, "You cannot do that again, all right?" Their eyes locked. "Let's move it to the roof; it's our only way to gain insight into Brick's plans. Come on."

Laurel tugged at a metal pipe that extended out of the brick wall, "And how the hell are we supposed to do that without being seen?"

He judged the odds and swallowed. "Well, our only chance is to be where Brick's at. We have to get over there."

"Okay, then let's go." Laurel raced quietly across the gravel to a nearby drainpipe, Roy closely following.

He moved around her and jerked at the grooved metal, smiling when it didn't budge at all. Roy glanced around, "Cover me, and if anybody sees you while I get to the top, you run, got it?"

"I'm coming up with you."

"Yes, I know, but I meant while I make my way up and you're still down here on the ground. I doubt this thing can hold  _both_  of us." With that being said, he reached as high as he possibly could, stretching his arms until it was physically painful, and then leaped up, gripping the pipe, and swinging his feet into the wall. Gritting his teeth, he held on as tightly as he could and propelled himself further upward, using his feet as springs.

A shout echoed nearby and Roy froze, eyes darting down to Laurel. She had crouched down to the ground, huddling herself into the wall in a last-ditch effort of concealment. Two shadows approached and Roy wondered how he was going to safely get he and Laurel back to the base.

The shadows stopped only meters away from Laurel's position; any closer and she would be spotted. Roy's fingers began to cramp and he slightly lessened the pressure, leaning his head against the pipe for balance. One of the figures seemed to weave on its feet, weapon held numbly in its hands.

"You fuckin' moron!" The other shadow shoved the figure's shoulder. "You're drunk, that's what you are, ain't it? Brick's gonna smash your skull in, dumbass! I gave him my word that you wouldn't do this, ya ungrateful bastard. I bet you've been drunk since we was busted out of that shit-filled place, haven't ya? Get the fuck outta my sight if you know what's good for ya! And for fuck's sake, gimme that thing before you accidentally kill someone."

The shadow left with the other figure's weapon, the departure unmistakably final. Roy held on to the pipe, arms and ankles throbbing, sweat pouring down his forehead, forcing him to blink rapidly.

The man stumbled near the drainpipe, making obscene gestures with his left hand, mocking the shadow who was no longer there. The man's right hand held a beer and he raised it to his lips after several swings of his arm, tilting his head upward and the man's eyes settled on Roy's face.

Roy didn't breathe as their eyes connected - glazed versus alarmed! The man stared uncomprehendingly at the sight, then blinked and stared once again. He shook his head, rubbing his temple as his eyes closed, then opened his lids and peered up at Roy with wide orbs, observing the sight he obviously wasn't certain was actually there. After several more moments, the man backed away, lurching further down the wall, away from the drainpipe, seeming to believe that Roy was simply an apparition who appeared as a result of his pressure under working for Daniel Brickwell.

Roy exhaled roughly and his body slumped against the pipe in pure relief, almost euphoric. He inhaled slowly, calming his mind, and surged, grabbing the metal bar that was the base of the railing, whipping his left hand up from the drainpipe to join its partner. He slowly pulled himself upward, using his knees as support, head peeking on to the roof of the building.

It was deserted.

He sighed in relief and gratefully swung his legs up to the ledge, and after making sure his balance was secured, kicked himself over the railings. He glanced around, reassured that nobody save the drunken goon had seen him. He quickly crawled towards the end of the ledge and looked down to see Laurel still crouched in her spot.

She didn't move.

He grit his teeth and yanked on the metal bar, the vibrations from the movement spiraling down to Laurel's concealed body. She looked up with a jerk, eyes wide. Roy motioned for her to hurry up. She climbed to her feet and tried to copy what he had done, but it was painfully obvious that she couldn't do it; she possessed neither the strength or dexterity.

She was hugging the drainpipe, probably six or seven feet under him. "Roy!" She hissed out, eyes wide with panic.

Seeing no other option, Roy fell to his stomach and stretched out his arm, "I'll pull you up," he whispered. "Hurry!"

Laurel climbed higher, body shaking with exertion, and Roy stretched out further, navel hugging the edge, other hand gripping the metal railing for balance. With a heavy grunt of effort, he managed to pull Laurel onto the ledge.

They both panted strenuously, kneeling under the night sky. After several moments, Roy looked at her, breathing heavily. "You're not ready for this; it'll kill you. I have the benefit of Oliver's teachings, and even then I can freely acknowledge that I'm not ready. All you have are boxing lessons, Laurel." Her eyes ignited with fire and Roy sighed. "It's admirable of you to honor Sara, you know, but have you truly thought about the life you must now live if you continue? Laurel, Oliver made it look effortless, did he not? But we both know  _from this very experience_  that it's almost impossible to do this every single day - and this is a mission Oliver would complete with utter ease."

"Sara did it, and I intend to do so as well."

"What do you intend to do, Laurel?" He snapped, beginning to grow angry, wishing she would just listen. "Sara was in the  _League of Assassins,_ was she not? Is that who you intend to be? You wanna be an assassin? Do you want to kill people? I'm not denying that Sara was a good person, but there was darkness in her life that  _haunted_  her. Do you want that, too? When you're asleep at night, do you want to be condemned by lifeless faces? Do you want your body broken and battered beyond repair? And what about your father? He's already lost one daughter."

Laurel closed her eyes and her hands clenched. Then, she exhaled slowly, lids opening. "Come on, we need to find out what Brickwell is planning." She stood up and began to trek across the roof.

Roy followed, cursing her stubbornness, but she was right. Now was not the time for such a conversation.

They were on a roof that was adjacent to the building Brick had been seen in, and he began to notice that a lot more figures were now outside of the house in the gravel lot, weapons poised. They were standing still and Roy's heart quickened, alarm spreading through him. Had an alarm been set off? Were they seen? Was it the drunkard? Laurel must have sensed his panic and she stopped, eyes questioning. He put a finger to his lips and listened, falling to his knees, hand ready to pull out an arrow; nothing happened.

A stream of light flooded across the terrace on the building and Roy felt his breath stutter as Daniel Brickwell set foot above the legions of men in the gravel yard.

What he saw was both mesmerizing and more than a little frightening. The men were in lines facing Daniel Brickwell, heads all craned up. Not a single one wore fine clothing; instead, where a jacket would be, a prison uniform was displayed. It was unmistakable, the grand design of how savage these men were. These men used to freely kill before their incarceration - used to rape innocent women and girls. It was in there faces, their eyes, the animalistic hunger that shined in their blood-lusted depths.

Their bodies were all young and strong, and staring down at them from the adjacent building, Roy shivered at the sheer magnitude of the immense strength of those men, the aura of savagery that floated in the air. That was the terrifying aspect of his realization. These men  _belonged_  to Brickwell, and it confirmed his worst fears.

Brick was amassing an army.

Laurel looked as shaken as he felt, and Roy paled as he watched Daniel Brickwell raised his fist in the air, voice deafening like thunder. "Our presence will be felt, our demands met. We have all been thrown an unfair hand by fate, but now, together, we can change that. Look at what we've done! We've taken over the Glades, brought the city to its knees. And where is that hooded-freak? Nowhere! He's a fuckin' pussy, he is! We scared him off, boys. He witnessed our combined strength and realized that the world is ours for the taking. Because he fled, he laid the path for the alliance. This is our opportunity. Gentlemen, I want you to pillage Starling City! We will be the Khans incarnate! Set fire to the city, kill the rebels, rape the women and children, and torture the police. No one can stop us, not even those fuckin' mutants in Central City!" The men all cheered, the sound eclipsing that of a football stadium.

Brick smiled sickly and glanced behind him while stepping aside. A new voice echoed through the area. "I've studied the Khans' methods, and based on what I've seen, I believe that we will surpass their legend." A middle-aged man appeared with thin blonde hair cropping at the edges, graying at the temples. His cold blue eyes were vivid, gleaming under the light of the terrace, and his smile was that of a practiced facade hiding the venom beneath. "History is always written by the victors, is it not? We've all lost in life, haven't we? Been imprisoned, shunned, forgotten, and scorned. I myself have been hunted for many years. Now I say that we become the victors! We've formed an alliance that will be unshakeable, invincible, and impervious to those who seek our downfall. Join my hive and, together, we will write out a new course of history using the blood of our enemies as ink!"

Animalistic intensity flooded the area as every man roared with approval, aggression clouding Roy's own senses. He shook his head and froze as dozens of figures stepped out of the shadows, joining the already impressive number of men Brick had amassed. These men were  _different,_  though. The subtle poise and confidence lined in their postures, the calm way they carried the military-grade weapons showed great experience and training. It was a sign, a terrible omen.

The poses were superior, and thus a symbol. The weapons they held in their gloved hands were a mark of status, of sophistication. A weapon of that degree was no less of a sign of how bountiful and dangerous one was than money and scars. The weapon was a subtle, intricate point of identification - only highly-skilled and deadly people would carry the weapon with such familiarity, with such  _ease._

Roy grabbed Laurel's hand, "We've gotta get out of here." He hissed out, "We got what we needed."

"Wait, who is that blonde-haired man?" Laurel asked while following Roy to the edge. "I don't recognize him,"

Before he had the chance to reply, the blonde-haired man spoke again, his charismatic voice reaching their ears. "And before I forget about our little eavesdroppers, let me show you why an alliance with me is in your best interests." Roy whipped around, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

The blonde-haired man with vivid blue eyes was staring directly up at them, a gleaming smile reminiscent of a shark plastered across his chiseled features. "Go!  _Go!"_  Roy shouted to Laurel, but they were too late.

The man simply waved his hand towards them as if greeting them with a 'hello' and an unseen force gripped their bodies. Roy was locked in place, limbs refusing to move no matter how harshly he commanded them to. Somehow, this man was  _freezing_  them. A meta-human like Barry, he realized brokenly.

He wasn't going to live past this day, and neither was Laurel.

"Come closer. I want to get a good look at you two." The man made a 'come hither' motion with his fingers and they were both lifted off the ground, levitating towards the man. "I've heard about you," he focused directly on Roy. "The 'Arrow', they call you, a hero. You're younger than I thought you'd be. You're just a boy. I've had my sights on this city for a long time, and believe it or not, it wasn't until your disappearance that I struck. I had believed you to be dead or given up on your pointless charade of playing hero. It seems that I was wrong." A sharp laugh escaped the man's lips. "I can see that the tales of your exploits by my followers were  _greatly_  exaggerated. You're terrified; it's in your eyes, clear as day. You're nothing, least of all a threat. But I bet you're wondering why you and your little harlot are still breathing, aren't you? Do you know?"

Suddenly, he could work his voice, the feeling a euphoria. "What do you want? Who are you?" His voice modulator boomed, feeling panic that he couldn't even move his other limbs.

"There is no need to fear me, bow-wielder, no need at all. I will leave you both alive, but only if you do something for me." The man leaned forward and an insane gleam clouded his vivid blue eyes. "Tell everyone who will listen of what you've seen here tonight. Tell them of what is coming, forcing them to live with the fear that there is nothing they can do to prevent it. The Khans themselves would turn away from the gruesome future that I, with the aid of my new friends, will unleash. Will you uphold your end of the bargain, and spread the word, bow-wielder?"

Roy found that he was able to nod his head, "Yes,  _yes,_  we will."

The grip around his body vanished and he plummeted to the ground, groaning as pain exploded in his side. Laurel laid unconscious next to him, blood oozing out of her head. He jumped to his feet, prepared to fight off as many of these men as he could, but all the men simply stared at him predatorily, not advancing.

When several seconds passed, Roy ducked down and heaved Laurel's body into his arms, running through the jeering crowd of blood-lusted men.

"Run, little bow-wielder, run!" The middle-aged, blonde-haired man from above exclaimed as Roy raced out of the Glades as fast as he could, arms carrying Laurel's limp form. "Flee! Spread the word, the ordained declaration of the conquest. The 'Arrow' and his whore cannot stop me, and soon the only man who can stop me will no longer be able to."

Roy hopped on the motorcycle, Laurel awkwardly pressed against his chest as he gunned the engine, zipping out of the Glades. With one hand on the handlebars, he turned on the comms device. "Hey!" He yelled, "Prep the med bay! Laurel's hurt!"

" _Roy! What happened? Where are you? I'm pulling your location up now."_  Felicity rambled.

"I'll explain when we arrive, but it's not good, not good at all."

" _Man,_   _you sound scared."_  Diggle's voice said,  _"What the hell happened?"_

Roy swallowed, "Oliver died is what happened, and we're all fucked."

XxXxXxXxXxX

**That's all for this one, everybody! It took a little bit, but I'm content with how it came out.**

****Oliver and Nyssa finally talk about Talia, and Oliver reveals a lot more about his time away. Personally, I think that the show missed a big opportunity to delve into Oliver's time at A.R.G.U.S. because let's face it, he was an assassin for them pretty much. He was blackmailed into working for them, physically forced to comply, otherwise his family would suffer. I think pretty much everything the show has shown him to be capable of doing that he** _**could not** _ **have learned on Lian Yu, he learned from A.R.G.U.S. I don't really think he trained under the Bratva. It was shown in** _**Season 5** _ **that Oliver only learned how to make bombs from Anatoli, and Talia pretty much did everything else.**

**I think that Nyssa has every right to feel furious with Sara. Sure, she is grieving but she is intelligent enough to recognize that the anger isn't necessarily a part of that. First of all, Sara would have died on the shores of Lian Yu, via Ra's own spoken words in canon, of starvation if it weren't for Nyssa. Sara was then indoctrinated into the League of Assassins, trusted by Ra's then-heir herself. She was well-known and a higher-up in the inner circles of Ra's legions. Then, by Sara's own actions and Nyssa's words, Sara fled from Nanda Parbat to Starling City, killing Shadows whom Ra's sent after her, blatantly betraying the League's code. Nyssa** _**must have** _ **been forced to plea to and beg her father not to kill Sara. How else would Sara have survived as long as she did? There's no other explanation. And when Nyssa feels more betrayed than ever, Sara opts to rather let herself die than return with Nyssa, to the life that Nyssa didn't have to give her all those years ago. If it were me in Nyssa's shoes, boy, I'd be very pissed off and betrayal would run rampant through my mind.**

**Also, remember, this is all from** _**Nyssa's** _ **perspective, not Sara's. These are Nyssa's feelings and emotions, her viewpoint about how everything happened. Sara's were probably a lot different. I'm not trying to shame Sara's character. I really liked her character, one of the best on the show until she was resurrected in that atrocity called** _**Season 4.** _

**Oliver also has every right to feel furious at Thea, his sister. Literally, the entire situation that he found himself in happened** _**because of his little sister!** _ **Because Thea chose to trust a well-known murderer in Malcolm, Oliver was blackmailed into battling Ra's Al Ghul, was actually killed, and then resurrected. It doesn't matter that Thea was under the influence of Votura, not really at all. She killed Sara, Votura or no. She condemned herself to live under Malcolm's manipulations because she stupidly** _**trusted him** _ **and Oliver was forced to pay the price of her actions** _**.** _

****Brickwell has built an army of convicts and allied with a familiar blonde-haired man with an affinity for magic. Damien Darhk is introduced! I hope I caught at least a few of you off-guard with that.**

**Leave a review and tell me what you think. I'd really appreciate it.**

_**Stay Safe  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


	7. Chapter 6

**Thanks to everyone who has commented. I really appreciate it! It makes my day every time I see a new one.**

 

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** _**Arrow** _ **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** _**Arrow** _ **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

The air was tense, hollowed as the realization of whom they were facing bore down on their shoulders with the weight of a mountain. Roy was sitting near Laurel's unconscious body, head hung, defeat displayed. Felicity was researching everything about Genghis Khan and his conquests almost a thousand years ago, typing rapidly in hopes to distract herself of the truth.

Diggle closed his eyes and wondered if the man they had named 'Khan' was right. Based on what Roy had described, an army of criminals and soldiers was backing Brickwell and Khan, men with serious training all ready to turn Starling City into a war zone. And that didn't even mention the fact that Khan was a metahuman like Barry Allen, capable of manipulating one's own body, taking away one's bodily control.

How could they hope to defeat such a foe?

"You said that she had a concussion, right?" Roy muttered, lifting his head and Diggle was struck by the lifeless glaze to his friend's eyes.

He nodded and looked at the monitors displaying Laurel's vitals. "Yeah, she got hit pretty good. I'm afraid to think what would have happened if Khan had dropped you both from a higher point. Several of your ribs are bruised badly and Laurel is concussed." He sighed and rubbed his face, "Felicity," he called out, "did you call him?"

"Yes, John, I did. He should be here any minute. I told him that it was urgent." His friend's usually chirpy tone was gone, diminished in the darkness of realization.

Roy suddenly gripped Diggle's arm, eyes wide. "Do you think that he'll help us? He has to; he's the only one who could stop Khan. That must have been who he had meant back there:  _'...and soon the only man who can stop me will no longer be able to.'"_

"I don't know, Roy. He's a good kid, but that's just what he is, a kid _._  He may be older than you, but we both know that age is just simply a number. Merlyn is a testament to that, and so is Slade Wilson and…  _Ra's Al Ghul._ " He shuddered out, hating the man who had kicked his best friend off of a mountain, the man who had killed Oliver.

A rush of wind exploded near one of the tables and papers flew everywhere, coating the floor. Barry Allen stood there without a mask, Flash uniform proudly displayed. He looked around, "Hey, you guys, I got here as soon as I could. What is it that you needed to talk to me about?" The kid zipped to Laurel, "Is she all right? I saw it on the news. I'm pretty sure that everybody did. Oliver was carrying her on his bike." Barry blinked and he turned around, "Oliver? Where is he?" That's when his eyes fell to Roy, who was wearing Oliver's uniform. "Why are you…?"

Diggle slowly turned towards Felicity, "You said that you told him weeks ago!" At her guilty look, he took a step back in disbelief, "You mean that you didn't…" he couldn't even finish the sentence; he was too angry.

Felicity's eyes were wide with panic, "I didn't see any reason to," she defended herself.

Roy jumped to his feet, "Are you fucking kidding, Felicity?" He growled out, looking angrier than Diggle had seen since the Mirakuru madness.

"Wow! What's going on here? Where's Oliver? And what the hell are you guys talking about?"

He turned to Barry, "Oliver left several months-"

"To fight a demon or something." Barry finished, "Yeah, Felicity told me, but he's back, isn't he? Where is he?"

"No, Oliver's dead, Barry," Roy hoarsely said, the declaration silencing the room.

Diggle carefully watched Barry Allen's face, monitoring his features. After several moments, Barry suddenly burst into laughter. "Oh, that's a good one! I had told Oliver that he needs to work on his sense of humor and this is how he takes my advice." He whirled around, "Oliver, you can come out now! The jig is up! I do have to hand it to you, though. At first, I was really worried- …and why are you guys looking at me like that?"

"It's true, Barry," Diggle placed a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Oliver battled a man named Ra's Al Ghul, the  _Demon's Head,_  a man whom you never want to meet. Even with your powers, he would kill you," he said seriously, worrying that Barry might race around the world searching for the man. "Oliver's body was… kicked off a mountain. I'm sorry that you had to hear it this way," he frowned and glanced at Felicity's guilty features.

"Oliver's gone?" Barry backed up, "No, no, no! Oliver- …you didn't tell me? He's my friend! How the hell would you feel if I didn't tell you that Cisco or Caitlin had… died _."_  Barry's face quivered and tears spilled down his now-red cheeks. "Oliver's dead. He's really gone _._ " He slowly turned to Roy, Diggle carefully watching. "That's why there haven't been any sightings of the 'Arrow' for several months until this very night, isn't it? I knew that something was…" he trailed off, face scrunching, hot fury carved into his features. He whirled around, pointing directly at Felicity, condemning her. "How could you not tell me? He's my friend, Felicity - you knew that! Why the hell would you lie to me about something like this?" A look of such betrayal crossed over the kid's features and then he was gone in a gust of wind, a whisper of lighting echoing.

Silence.

"Why didn't you tell him that Oliver is dead, Felicity? This is fucking ridiculous." Roy demanded, anger and exasperation fighting for control over his face. "You've had months! He was right, you know? Oliver viewed Barry as a good and respectable man, if not a friend."

Felicity swallowed and brought a hand to rub her throat, "Because, because…"

"Because you couldn't face the truth," Diggle finished and slumped his head against the wall in exhaustion. "Felicity, Oliver is dead. If it wasn't true and he is somehow, impossibly alive, I would happily cut off my own hand, but it is true. Lying to yourself isn't going to help. It makes it harder."

"Throwing Malcolm Merlyn's words at me, John?" She stood to her feet, tears staining her face.

"Yes, I am!" He snapped, "I hate that man more than anyone else alive, even more than Deadshot after he had killed Andy, but it doesn't change the fact that he is right. Barry deserved to know, Felicity, and we all know it."

"Just because I have enough hope to know that Oliver is still alive-"

Diggle spun around and scowled, "And is having hope supposed to mean fucking Ray Palmer?" He dimly noticed that Roy had raised his head, but he was too angry to care. His emotions were skewed and butchered, pressured beyond any measure previously sustained. "Yes, I know all about that. I've known for a while, now. And let me guess, it's been more than just once, right? While you mourn for a man you claim to have loved, you fuck the man who stole his company from him. What the actual fuck are you doing, Felicity? Palmer is a decent man who is blatantly crazy about you, not to mention that he's rich. And let me guess, he doesn't know about Oliver, does he?" When her eyes only continued to widen, he felt his anger explode out in a snarl. "All you're doing is giving him false hope, Felicity, because the moment when he learns that the only reason you dipped his stinger in your honey was that of your grief for another man, he'll be crushed." He softened his words, the anger beginning to fade as he took in her pale, hurt, and shocked features. "I only say these things as a friend, okay? You can't keep living these two lives: one where Oliver is still alive, and one where Ray Palmer has no idea what has happened. Come clean, please. Just tell him, and be free of the burden you obviously feel."

His head snapped to the side and his cheek stung as Felicity stormed out of the bunker. He rubbed his cheek, impressed that she had hit him that hard, but behind that, the guilt was deafening.

"You did the right thing, man," Roy murmured, staring at Laurel's unconscious body. "I gave Laurel the same kind of talk in regards to being a vigilante, and pretty much got the same reaction."

"I feel guilty, though," he said hollowly.

"It was the right thing to do, Dig. Felicity was driving me crazy, honestly. I didn't know how much more I could handle before snapping myself, and trust me, my words earlier weren't me snapping."

"I guess that you can handle more than me, then,"

"But I'm not sure how much more I can take, man." Roy looked up at him with pain-filled eyes. "I don't know how the fuck Oliver handled all the shit he dealt with, but if I've learned anything, it's that he would know what to do. I don't know, you don't know, and the team is fractured. I don't know anymore, Dig. What can we do?"

"I don't know," he whispered honestly, recognizing that Roy was, indeed, right. "We need help, but I don't know who could possibly help us."

"Yes, you do,"

He sighed, "I know but I don't like it."

Roy snorted without amusement, "I don't either - we both undoubtedly hate it - but he's our only option. The only problem will be convincing everyone else of that."

Diggle closed his eyes wearily, "We'll have to force them to see reason and compromise at the same time."

"Then we might as well give up," Roy muttered. "We're fucked if that is the only way to succeed in stopping Khan and Brick."

He shook his head slowly, the idea echoing in his mind. "Not necessarily,"

XxXxXxXxXxX

Built into the mountain itself, Nanda Parbat was beyond compare, a jewel in the dark. The long line of Ra's had begun when evil thrived when it shouldn't, and when death was found to be the only suitable answer to such a problem. It was an ideology that would continue to exist as long as Ra's himself did.

He would see to it.

For too many decades, he had focused solely on his reign, mistakenly believing himself to be truly immortal. He hadn't looked ahead to the time when he would undoubtedly need a worthy heir to become the newest incarnation of the Demon's Head when he should have, and he had no one to blame but himself. How foolish he had been. He had been content with two weak, traitorous daughters when he should have been striving for strong sons. How many opportunities had he been given the opportunity to impregnate hundreds, if not thousands of women, spreading his worthy seed, but had rarely done so? Too many because he had worried about other things, but no more.

From now on, all of his attention would be set on securing the dynastic succession for the Demon's Head. He needed a male heir just as all rulers needed sons. He had ignored the foundation of security in the League of Assassins: a worthy male heir who would inherit the mantle of power that belongs only to the Demon's Head and no other.

Even now, when he was submerged, he could feel the effects of the Lazarus Pit weaken ever so gradually, more so with each submergence. At this rate, he would only have a few years left until it ceased to work on him at all, and then he would begin to age just like every other man - and he could easily be killed. The only solace to that revelation was that Damien would no longer survive for much longer then, as well.

"My liege," he felt the priestess kneel before the Lazarus Pit. "Sarab has returned from his journey, and he brings urgent tidings."

Ra's eyes opened slowly, "Bring him in with haste,"

He exited the Pit and several of the servant girls dressed him. He felt the Ring on his finger more than ever before, its presence a reassurance in these dark and troubling times. He was now acutely aware that Sarab had returned alone, and that Nyssa hadn't been seen by the archers above Nanda Parbat. Had his daughter betrayed him again? The thought sickened him. How could he have sired such detestable spawn whom both refused to abide by their father's rule?

"Leave us," he suddenly called out and the girls scurried out as respectfully as possible. Ra's slowly turned to Sarab's kneeling form. "What news do you bring? Have you acquired Mr. Queen's body? And where is my daughter?"

"My liege," Sarab kept his head to the ground as he spoke. "I'm sorry, but I failed you,"

"Lift your head, Sarab," Ra's stared at the gruesome blood wounds across Sarab's features as they became visible. "And this was the work of my daughter?"

"No, my liege, the wounds were caused by… Oliver Queen. He is alive and traveled through the wilderness; Mother Nature prohibited me from capturing him."

Ra's eyes sharpened, "And Nyssa?"

"Your daughter ordered me to return to Nanda Parbat and report to you personally while she herself continued the hunt for Oliver Queen. She is furious at his continued show of defiance towards you."

"So, he will return to Starling City. He was the one who killed the Shadows I sent to aid you." He turned around and stared at the Lazarus Pit. He was pleased to hear of his daughter's re-affirmed obedience, of her willingness to do what she believed would bring him pleasure. "I want Shadows deployed to Starling City. They will only monitor Mr. Queen upon his arrival. They will also determine how grave a threat Damien is with his hive of soldiers and evil-inflictors at the moment in Mr. Queen's city. My daughter can continue to hunt Mr. Queen, but I suspect that she will never be able to capture him. He has destiny on his side.  _'Rising from the cold hands of death, he came. From the Demon's blade, he survived his maim. A worthy heir Ra's Al Ghul will proclaim.'_  At last, I've finally found my worthy successor, Sarab. It's been a long time coming, but I believe that the League will become all the stronger because of it, because of him _._ "

"If I may, my liege, I believe that you are right."

Ra's felt a rare, genuine smile grace his features as he envisioned the future. "Yes, yes, Sarab, I believe that I am, too. To glimpse the future, you must look behind you for it is the best seer, and based on the past, Mr. Queen will transform the League and the world for the better. Evil will cease to thrive, and he will snuff it out with death as his weapon."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The stitching was professional and well-done, and he had expected nothing less from Nyssa. She had been quick and efficient, recognizing that the only way to help him during those moments was to inflict pain, and when it had come down to it, she hadn't hesitated for more than a second. He had removed his jacket and only wore a much-too-small shirt that Maseo had given him and the stitching was visible in the murky air.

Oliver continually kept throwing glances her way as they trudged toward, where rumor claimed, a bus port existed. Their car had run out of fuel hours ago and they had agreed to keep traveling. The comforting weight of the pistols that he had stolen from the group of scum in the squalid town was ever-present.

Nyssa was aware of his actions and after several more minutes she turned toward him with one eyebrow raised, "Do you need to rest?"

He huffed in irritation, "No, I'm fine. I've been through worse."

"I know you have, but if you want to, we can rest."

"No, let's keep going. We're almost there, surely, and the sooner I'm in Starling, the more relieved I'll be."

Nyssa nodded in understanding, "Your sister?"

"Yes, she's been in Malcolm's grasp without me there for months. It's unacceptable, and although I do trust the team, they are unequipped to handle Malcolm."

"I'm certain that she'll be happy to see you," she consented his words. "How do you want to deal with Merlyn? I would prefer something which is drawn-out, and fills him with pain and suffering."

He felt a small chuckle pass his maimed throat, felt the small burn as it escaped his lips; he had become a true master at ignoring the pain that was always there whenever he spoke. "Yes, I know that you would, and I am of the same mindset, but I don't know how… firmly Malcolm has Thea in his grip." He felt his fists clench, the anger that had become so much more violent and explosive since his resurrection rising inside, boiling, brimming over in his heart. "But once we know that, Malcolm will die, and that I swear on Thea's life - I'll even let you strike the killing blow. I just need to determine how to reveal Thea's role in Sara's death. I'll probably just need to be blunt about it."

"An arduous endeavor," she pointed and he nodded tiredly while she continued. "I assume that your sister has been trained, right?"

"She's received training from Malcolm and she… attacked me when I was in the 'Arrow' persona," he grunted out in his permanent whisper, still feeling the sparks of shock and rage that had intermingled in his mind after that experience, knowing that Malcolm had corrupted his little sister. "She's a beginner, a good one, but if she were to face someone in actual combat who knew what they were doing, she would get her ass kicked, to put it plainly. I could have killed her if I had wanted to."

Nyssa hummed, "And do you want to rectify that? Would you like to train her, take her as your protege?"

"I don't know," he whispered out, his words reaching her ears. "I'm sure, by now, that your father knows that I'm alive and that you're 'hunting' me. What would his play be? Would he order me captured, or leave me be for now?"

She stepped closer toward him as they continued their journey to the mysterious bus stop. "The only person who can answer your questions are my father himself. As I heard Sara once say, he's the ultimate poker player." A sad smile crossed her features, "I do suspect that he will send some Shadows to monitor your actions, though."

"So you and I mustn't be seen together," he concluded in what he suspected to be the same sad tone. "You needn't worry because I just decided to train Thea."

"Why?"

"So that I won't be forced to pretend that you're my enemy. You can help me train her." He stared down at her, eyes connecting - surprised versus honest. "You will never be enemy, no matter what. Frankly, right now, you're the only person in the entire world who I implicitly trust."

She smiled slightly, "You've mentioned that several times."

"And that doesn't make it any less true," he pointed out, and after several moments, spoke again. "I think that it's about time that we talked about what Ra's wants me to do?"

Nyssa frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I'm not naive enough to believe that I can avoid your father's all-seeing sight,"

"I commend you,"

He continued, "And I want to know when I, inexorably, join Ra's Al Ghul's legions, what it is that I'll be doing for him. How would I be indoctrinated? What steps are there to becoming the… Demon's Head?"

"You're not going to like it," she warned and then stopped walking. "I think it's better if we rest now while we talk about it." Nyssa stepped off the path and sat near a tree, the leaves crunching pleasantly.

Oliver slowly sat next to her, shoulders touching. "All right, I want to know everything."

"Very well," she inhaled. "Some members undergo, through ancient rituals and ceremonies, an indoctrination process. It's shrouded in secrecy and not even I know what happens during someone's indoctrination process. I never needed it. All I do know is, is that when one undergoes the process, they are forever changed. Their past life is gone; it is but only a fleeting memory. And when that's concluded, training begins. My father will undoubtedly train you himself, a feat that I know no record of, and groom you to become Ra's Al Ghul." She sighed and her head leaned back against the tree bark. "While I might have been allowed to call myself the 'Heir to the Demon', it was temporary. I know of what's required for the ascension to Demon's Head, but my father could do anything, honestly. His will becomes your own."

He nodded and spaced out his next words. "Tell me of what you do know."

"Starling City is your home, yes?"

He stared at her in bemusement, "It's where I was born."

"And to become Ra's Al Ghul, you'll be obligated to unleash death upon it." Oliver stared at her in stunned silence. "It has been this way, apparently, ever since Ra's Al Ghul's existence first began." She stared at him sympathetically, and of her own accord, gripped his hand. "You see, it is the final act of ascension, the transformation to Demon's Head. It is the erasure of one's former life, former home. My father's predecessor, from what he's shared, wiped away Alexandria, Egypt, with cholera in the year 1609. If you become Ra's Al Ghul, you must do the same."

Oliver shook his head, "There's no fucking way!" He cried out, immediately regretting it as he coughed, pain lancing through his throat. He quieted and swallowed, words quiet. "I would never do that."

She smiled sadly, "What my father wishes, becomes reality, Oliver. I know that better than anyone. If you refuse to unleash death upon Starling City, you will, without doubt, undergo the indoctrination process. Then, you will be molded into an emotionless, powerful Shadow who answers to no one in the world except my father. If that happens, Starling City - your home - will be destroyed by your own hands."

"And that's the only way to fully become Ra's Al Ghul? The only way that your father would be satisfied?" He asked after several moments of gathering his thoughts.

"If there is any other way, I am unaware of it."

His jaw clenched and Nyssa's hand was a lifeline to keep himself from succumbing to the violent rage boiling over in his resurrected heart. "This is- what the hell? My destiny is to destroy the city I grew up in?"

Nyssa's face tilted and a strange look crossed over her features. "Actually, there might possibly be another solution for this problem. You don't want to destroy your home, and that is in direct violation of the ascension to Demon's Head."

Oliver frowned, "And what's your point? What are you trying to say?"

"But if you were the Demon's Head, say, by killing my father in a duel before Starling City's destruction, then you yourself would be Ra's Al Ghul. You could decree that Starling City won't be destroyed, and thus, solve the problem for no one would dare voice argument - or even think it!" Her eyes were gleaming and excitement had begun to inflict her tone.

"That's genius," he whispered and stared at her fondly. "Thank you, Nyssa, thank you so much. You single-handedly concocted a way for me to avoid destroying the city where I grew up."

Her eyes narrowed, "You're welcome, but why do you avoid calling Starling City your home? Don't think that I didn't notice. All you said was that it was where you were born and where you grew up. You never mentioned it as your home."

Oliver nodded slowly, impressed that she had noticed his subtle deflection. "I don't feel like Starling City is my home. It's strange, really, because when I picture home, I picture Lian Yu. It's the place that forged me into the man I've become and it's where I realized who I truly am and what I want to do, what I want to become, and who I want to become."

"And you don't wish to see Lian Yu destroyed either, correct?" Nyssa questioned rhetorically in a soft voice. She squeezed his hand, "It makes sense, and it's okay that you feel that way."

His lips curled gratefully, "Thank you, thank you for everything."

"Now, if we decide on the latter option for your ascension to Demon's Head," she began, "we'll need to change the plan."

"Okay, how so?"

"Since we're training your sister, we'll need to train somewhere. And since Starling City will more than likely be under my father's all-seeing eyes, we need to do it elsewhere."

"Lian Yu," he murmured after a moment's contemplation. "Maybe, if Thea does visit Purgatory, she'll begin to understand my position and everything that happened to me."

"Very well, and may I suggest something?"

He nodded, "Of course, anything that you think would help."

"I believe that we should leave your team as much in the dark as possible about the true endgame. Don't tell them about becoming Ra's Al Ghul and make no mention of the prophecies. Just let them draw the conclusion that my father will hunt you because you survived. And, especially, do not inform them that I am aiding you. Shadows will be watching them closely and they are not good liars, particularly the blonde, Felicity."

"And Thea?"

"I believe that it will be okay if your team knows about you wishing to train her to fend off the League. I'm unconcerned if your sister knows that I am aiding you. It seems to me that she's a good liar."

Oliver growled lowly, "Yes, she is," the rage was there, he could physically feel it inside his chest as he inhaled. "Although the main reason that I refused to recognize her guilt was that of familial loyalty and disbelief."

"Understandable, Oliver," she smiled at him reassuringly. "If I knew Talia, I'm sure that I would do the same."

He considered his old mentor, "I reckon that, maybe, she would be willing to aid us if there is any trouble with your father."

"Then I almost wish for my father to administer his power on us, forcing such an event to happen."

"I'll try to contact her when we arrive back in Starling," he promised, nodding his head in assurance. "I'll tell her to travel to Lian Yu, and then you can meet her."

Nyssa's eyes were wide with shock, "You would do that?" Her voice was a whisper that rivaled Oliver's own permanent vocal volume. "Really?"

He smiled gently, "Yes, I would, Nyssa. You're important to me and Talia helped me realize my errors in judgment all those years ago, so I believe that it would be appropriate for two sisters, who have helped me more than almost anyone in the world, to finally meet one another face-to-face."

"Thank you," she swallowed and emotions shined in her hypnotic eyes. "I can definitely understand how Sara fell in love with you."

"Then that makes one of us," he replied immediately, wary of where her thoughts were leading. He wasn't ready to admit his own fondness for her. "I was an asshole, a complete prick who didn't deserve someone as pure as Sara in my life. I tainted her, you know? Because of me, she entered a world of darkness and death."

"Because of you," Nyssa's hand squeezed his own and her other hand covered their gripped fingers. "I met Sara. I'm glad that you 'tainted her', as you called it. Although I am still beyond furious with her, I wouldn't change the time that Sara and I had been able to share together." Her eyes hesitated and then a glint shone. "I also wouldn't change any of the time that you and I have shared together, Oliver."

Oliver tried to force himself to look away, but the urge dissipated upon the honest look in Nyssa's eyes. He slowly, wary that she might become disgusted or angry, pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her gently. When she didn't fight it, but rather rested her cheek against his chest, he sighed inwardly in relief. "I wouldn't change any of it, either," he whispered. "I'm kind of thankful that your father killed me, thus gifting me the path which allowed us to connect."

He felt her breaths puff against his chest and her raven black hair tumbled and shuddered as she seemed to nestle into him, and the sight mesmerized him. "I am, too," she murmured just as softly.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Broaching the subject, although contemplated and practiced many times, was a lot harder than he had ever thought possible. It was a thorn, an irritant which ceased to afflict him in spite of his best efforts to shed the weakness.

Ever since when he had notified Oliver's disciples, watched as their heartbreak and agony were physical reactions, felt the tangible raw sorrow in the air, it had made him question his own decision in revealing the truth to Thea. Would his daughter react in that same way? Would it be worse? Oliver was her brother and she loved him more than anyone.

Malcolm took a long drink of his scotch and it slid pleasantly down his throat, a warmth spreading through his body. For too long, he had ignored the impulse to bestow the knowledge unto his daughter, unwilling to watch her heart break, but no more. Thea would survive and thrive, especially with Malcolm in her life. His daughter had survived the death of Oliver the first time, laying the foundations for the strong woman whom she would grow to be, and she would no doubt survive the second death of her brother.

Gently placing the glass on the coaster, he waited for his daughter to return, to return to the news that her beloved sibling was dead, biding the time by meditating.

The League of Assassins had been quiet, invisible to even Malcolm himself for months now, since Oliver's departure to battle Ra's Al Ghul. Had Oliver begged Ra's to spare Malcolm punishment? Was that why no Shadows had been since sent after he and his daughter? There could be no other option as far as he could tell. If his suspicion was, indeed, correct, then his respect and admiration - maybe even love - for Oliver had inflated considerably.

As the Demon's Head's horseman, he had been given glimpses of Ra's Al Ghul's thought process. The most dangerous man in the world was a title true to his name. Malcolm had witnessed the ancient eyes eviscerate threats without spoken words, and the deadly skill the man had reached in weaponry that was beyond anything that Malcolm could ever hope to achieve.

Ra's Al Ghul was the only man in the entire world who Malcolm truly feared. He was afraid of the Demon's Head, petrified in meeting his demise by the man's own blood-soaked blade. He needed more time, especially with Thea. He had already accepted that, sooner or later, he would be swallowed by death, but not yet! He couldn't! The dark abyss had haunted his dreams ever since the truth of Oliver's fate, laying bare his deeds, punishing him for his egregious sins.

Malcolm opened his eyes, feeling the shift in the air, hearing the noise. Someone was near the door, but his eyes noted that the shadow was a lot larger than Thea's was. He silently stood to his feet and approached, narrowing his eyes as the shadow was clearly masculine, bigger than Malcolm himself. He hissed between his teeth as he realized that Mr. Diggle had come to visit.

The door wiggled open and Malcolm stepped into the shadows, molding himself in them. Mr. Diggle stepped in the apartment, head anxiously swiveling from side-to-side. "I don't know where you're at, but I do know that you're here, Merlyn. Come out!"

His eyebrows rose in surprise and he stepped into the light, shadows parting for him. "Mr. Diggle, I believe that you have illegally entered my daughter's apartment, so state your purpose for your 'visit' before I physically force you to leave." Malcolm casually clasped his hands behind his back, smiling coyly. "We both know the outcome of such a situation."

And Mr. Diggle did know, as disdain wrinkled through his features, "Fuck you, Merlyn. The only reason you are still living is that of Thea and the… the cruelty of her part in Sara's death."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is, but I didn't come in-"

"Didn't break in," Malcolm calmly corrected the man.

"-to rehash that. Although we both know that you drugged Thea to kill Sara, keeping your own hands clean, thus forcing Oliver to fight Ra's Al Ghul."

Malcolm refrained from rolling his eyes, "And the point to your visit, Mr. Diggle? I thought that you didn't want to rehash Sara's death and all of the circumstances surrounding it. What is the truth of your breaking into my daughter's apartment?"

"The truth is, is that we need your help." Mr. Diggle looked as if he had swallowed acid and Malcolm felt his lips twitch in genuine amusement.

"Me? You want my help?" He stepped forward in curiosity, "I saw on the news that Mr. Harper had dawned Oliver's uniform, driving his motorcycle with Ms. Lance unconscious. You would only come to me if you were truly desperate, so something is wrong, deadly wrong. Is it Ms. Lance? Is she dangerously injured? My medical expertise surely isn't as advanced as your own, Mr. Diggle."

The man saw Malcolm's bottle of scotch and grabbed it, taking a heavy swig. "I can't believe I'm about to do this," he muttered.

"And I can't believe you just drank from my scotch, Mr. Diggle." Malcolm paused and then smirked, "It could have been poisoned, you know?" At the man's horrified expression, a true laugh escaped Malcolm's lips. "Don't worry, it's not. I don't know what Oliver sees in any of you. You are mere kittens tangling with lions."

Mr. Diggle slowly exhaled, no doubt to keep himself from succumbing to the urge to attack. "The city is falling apart, Merlyn, and as much as I loathe to admit it, we're all in over our heads."

"Of course you are, Mr. Diggle." Malcolm shook his head condescendingly, wondering if he could push the man far enough to attack him. "Only Oliver could stay afloat in the tide of scum in Starling City."

"The Glades have been held hostage by Daniel Brickwell and another man," Mr. Diggle said through grit teeth. "This second man, whom we have named as 'Khan', is a metahuman, Merlyn. He was able to control Roy and Laurel's bodies with a simple wave of his hand."

Worry began to curdle in Malcolm's gut. Would this man be a threat to him and Thea? "So what is it you would want me to do, Mr. Diggle?"

"We need to work together," the man growled out sourly. "I hate it, and so do the others, but they were all - even Laurel and Felicity, although it had taken much convincing - able to see that you are the only one who could possibly keep the city from destroying itself. The only reason that Roy and Laurel had escaped with their lives was that Khan had  _let them go._  From their reconnaissance mission, they have relayed that Brickwell and Khan have an army of thugs, killers, rapists, and highly-trained soldiers at their disposal. I think that we're facing a bigger threat than Slade Wilson's Mirakuru-enhanced army."

Malcolm didn't bat an eye; rather, he felt his lips twist with scorn. "And now you wish that all of the escaped convicts had been killed, don't you, Mr. Diggle?" He shook his head in disgust, "The blame lies solely on Ms. Smoak's shoulders, and your own, for their continued survival. If you two hadn't provoked Oliver's long-dormant human loyalties, none of these scum would be alive. There would be no army of vile, darkness-tainted butchers to deal with; just only soldiers, who are more than easy enough to take care of. The problem with killers and rapists, Mr. Diggle, is that they feel nothing, no humanity. All they feel, if they feel at all, is only aggression and the thought of inflicting pain on others. You may claim me a monster, but they are the truly detestable ones who walk this earth."

"And maybe you're right, but we can't change the past, Merlyn. We can only move forward, no matter how hard it might be." Mr. Diggle rubbed his forehead in exhaustion, "We need your help and I'm not leaving this apartment until you agree to aid us in removing Brickwell and Khan."

A laugh erupted out of Malcolm's lungs, "You are truly bold, Mr. Diggle, quite stupidly so. Why would I help you? I could just convince Thea to leave with me and all our problems are taken care of. There is nothing that you can do which would prevent me from doing that."

"I don't think so, Merlyn," Mr. Diggle smiled in triumph and Malcolm was immediately wary, eyes darting everywhere, searching for potential threats. "We both know that you could easily kill me right now, and that would be the only way that I leave this apartment without gaining your aid, but if you do that, Thea will find out." Mr. Diggle tapped his leather jacket and Malcolm felt rage flush through his heart as he finally noticed the minuscule micro-camera sewn into the zipper. "This is a live feed to the lair and the team is watching and listening right now. If you attempt to harm me in any way, they will immediately send the feed to Thea's phone. And you implicated yourself in drugging her, remember? I don't think that you want to reveal the news to her like this, do you?"

Malcolm smiled coldly and his rage was soothed slightly by the look of trepidation on Mr. Diggle's face. "You are sly, aren't you? But here's a word of advice, Mr. Diggle, to you and your merry crew of misfits: don't play games with predators."

"Is that a yes? You'll help us? If not, you're choosing to send the feed to Thea's phone."

"Very well, I'll join you," he stepped closer to Mr. Diggle. "Just remember something: do not attempt to send that feed to Thea, or I will make certain that all of you die painfully. I will honor my part of our arrangement, but make certain that you all do so, as well."

Mr. Diggle nodded, "As long as you do, in fact, help us, Thea will remain sheltered from the truth, but make no mistake, Merlyn, your reckoning will come and Thea will know the truth and it will be your downfall."

"Idle words, Mr. Diggle, idle words. Thea would never believe such a thing, especially since Oliver is dead. You could all tell her, but she wouldn't believe it. Your only chance is to show her the incrimination of my part in her killing of Sara, but we both know that you all want to continue living, avoiding my vengeance. So none of you will tell her and show her the video unless I attack and kill you, and I'm not going to tell her, so you tell me, Mr. Diggle: who will bring her such a revelation of truth?"

"I hate you, you bastard,"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, "Do you truly know hatred, Mr. Diggle? Do you? I believe you are more than familiar with rage, most everybody is. But hatred? No, no, no. You don't hate anyone, do you? Your brother's killer, Deadshot? You let him live, thus proving true hatred ceased to burn in your heart. And me, you don't hate, you really don't. You're too self-righteous to succumb to the fierce, animalistic loathing, Mr. Diggle. Now, if Oliver was alive, and was journeying home, the hatred in his heart would raze mountains themselves, I'm certain of it. He hates me, Mr. Diggle, I saw it in his eyes. The only reason he didn't kill me during that moment was that of the video of Thea murdering Sara Lance."

Mr. Diggle shook his head adamantly, "I agree that Oliver, if he… were alive, would despise you, but I do, as well - and the rest of the team, too, especially Laurel."

"I do believe that Ms. Lance loathes me, but she - and none of you, for that matter - would be willing to gut me like a fish and watch me bleed out while sipping from a glass of fine scotch. That is true hatred, Mr. Diggle. I've hated in my life, I truly have, and still do. You see, hatred gnaws at you incessantly. It swirls around your soul, coiled through the deepest recesses of your heart until it begins to squeeze, cutting off your blood supply, depriving you of your much-needed oxygen." Malcolm stepped closer and lowered his voice, "With every breath, its poison-coated bite warps your mind until the only thing that keeps you alive is the whispers in the dark, the clouds that obscure the brightest days. It's a constant in your life, festering your dreams while you rest, and, in time, it becomes an indispensable tool."

Malcolm curled his lips into a smirk as he watched Mr. Diggle shudder, "You're sick, you know that, Merlyn?"

"No, Mr. Diggle, I'm a realist and one who understands this world more than you or any of your team ever will."

"You make it difficult, in spite of my training, not to punch you." Mr. Diggle turned around, "Come on, Merlyn, the sooner we can deal with Khan and Brickwell, the sooner you and I will cease to work together."

A small flush of rage spread through his mind again from the reminder that he had been tricked - and tricked by such novices, at that. When Brickwell and Khan were dealt with, he would erase all the footage from that damned micro-camera and kill Oliver's disciples. He didn't need them - and Thea didn't, either - and frankly, they were irritating, beyond redemption in his eyes. They failed to see the truth, but he did, he saw it with eyes shaped by the Demon's Head. It was time for a new breed to deal with the criminals of Starling City, and it was going to be Thea and Malcolm himself who led the new age.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Oliver refrained from grunting as his body was jolted from its position, instincts demanding that he attack and defend himself, but there was no need. After several moments, he settled himself back on the hay, ignoring the wary eyes of the other passengers. Instead, he turned towards Nyssa, watching as she continued to sleep, feeling his eyes soften as her peaceful features were visible in the dim light, only inches away from his own.

They had eventually found the bus stop, joining a large band of moneyless hikers. According to the driver, Starling City's stop wasn't too far away, only half of a day's drive, and Nyssa had then pointed out that only Mother Nature herself could delay them any further.

The spacing was limited, too many bodies huddled together on the bales of hay, and after almost an hour, after Nyssa had hidden her weapons and covered her armor with a coat, he had told her to get some sleep, refusing to rest until she herself was rested. To his surprise, she hadn't argued and gently laid her head on his shoulder, eyes falling shut.

"How long have you two been married?" Oliver looked to his left, at the elderly woman with wrinkles, yet her eyes were alert and sharp. "You and your wife?"

He remembered how much time had passed since his duel with Ra's Al Ghul, "A little over four months, now," he said quietly, knowing that it would only bring attention to himself and Nyssa if he had denied the woman's drawn conclusion.

The elderly woman smiled, her dark, tan skin wrinkling even further, "That's nice, my dear, especially your voice. You're different from everyone else; they all talk too loud but your voice is barely a whisper, a true and contentful change - I congratulate you." The woman then nodded her head towards Nyssa's head, "It's been too long since I've witnessed the trust that you and your lovely wife share."

Oliver carefully nodded, "It's been a long road,"

"I commend you, young man, I truly do." She patted his arm suddenly and Oliver had to refrain from lashing out, "Where are you two headed?"

"Starling City, we've been traveling for quite a while now,"

The woman's eyes widened minutely, "Oh, my boy, you don't want to visit Starling City."

"And why is that?"

"Haven't you heard?" The woman's tone was aghast, "It's been all over the national news! Even from where I'm from, I've heard it. The Glades have been overrun by a man named Brickwell, and he has murdered several of the leading political players in the city. The police have been able to do nothing, and even that bow-wielding and hood-wearing vigilante hasn't been able to stop him and the army of criminals under Brickwell's command."

Oliver felt something cold crawl up his spine, "The 'Arrow' hasn't dealt with it?" Why wouldn't John, or Roy for that matter, deal with the obvious threat?

The woman snorted, "The 'Arrow' hadn't shown his thrown-in-darkness face for months until just a week ago. But let me tell you something, young man: I've never seen a city on the brink of collapse like Starling City currently is. Malcolm Merlyn's murder-spree several years ago and that government army last year, at least to me, both seem tame compared to what this Daniel Brickwell has unleashed."

"A little chaos isn't going to frighten me away," he said lowly, feeling his throat throb. "I'm quite accustomed to it,"

"Well, try not to die, young man," the woman said after a moment of staring at him. "The world needs more men like you and your beautiful wife, people who are willing to simply trust their loved ones."

Oliver felt and heard Nyssa's breathing elevate slightly, and he knew that she was awake and had probably even been listening, "Death has been a loyal shadow behind me for years, ma'am, and I don't intend to let it catch up to me. I've much to live for."

"We both do," Nyssa suddenly said, opening her eyes. "We intend to succeed,"

He smiled slightly, glancing at her, "And kick some ass," he finished. "I've many scores to settle and I have realized that I've been far too merciful. Reckonings are coming, and nobody will see them until it's too late."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Every pair of eyes glared at him in disdain and pure scorn, but he was unimpressed, he truly was. It wasn't an ideal situation, but if they were doubting their decision, it was their own fault, not his. He wanted nothing to do with any of them, but they had forced him into this situation, forcing his input.

"How would that work?" Mr. Harper leaned forward, eyes distrustful yet willing to listen, unlike all others except for Mr. Diggle's. "I don't see it,"

"Of course, you don't, Mr. Harper," he clasped his hands behind his back. "Mr. Brickwell is a career criminal, a man who, by your own words, wants nothing more than to control all of Starling CIty, one of the most populated cities in the country. In spite of his physical appearance and the rumors surrounding his name, his intelligence is nothing to scoff at. If you wish to catch him, you must think like him. None of you can physically pose a threat to Mr. Brickwell accept for, perhaps, Mr. Diggle, but even then, Mr. Brickwell is notorious for his willingness to engage in foul and wicked practices."

Ms. Lance grimaced, touching her bandaged head, her pale features visible under the glaring lights of the lair. "And this Khan man? What can we do against him?"

Malcolm inhaled slowly and turned, staring at Oliver's uniform, the green color almost divine. "Khan is a metahuman, capable of, from what Mr. Diggle has shared, controlling one's very movements." He frowned as a thought occurred to him, and he turned towards the crew of misfits. "What of his physical appearance? Is he similar to Mr. Brickwell in that he is very strong and capable of triumphing over the ailment of pain?"

Mr. Harper closed his eyes, "He had light blonde-hair and had vivid blue eyes, ones that I don't think I'll ever forget; they gave me chills. He looked around your own age, Merlyn, and physically, I doubt he's a threat. It's just his powers."

"Around my own age, you claim, and yet it is a proven fact that I could easily kill all of you in this room right now. Age is just a number, Mr. Harper, and you would do well to remember that." He pointedly looked at his daughter's former boyfriend. "And the highly-trained men appeared only when Khan appeared on this balcony, correct?"

"Yes, Khan and Brickwell forged an alliance, a dastardly one." Ms. Lance intoned quietly, "Khan wanted all of the criminals - and Brickwell, too - to join his hive, whatever the hell that means, and he kept mentioning Genghis Khan and his conquests."

Malcolm froze and felt something close to fear resonate in his mind, "What did you just say?"

Mr. Diggle must have sensed his distress for he took a step forward, wariness carved into his features. "What is it, Merlyn? What's wrong?"

"I am disappointed in myself, Mr. Diggle," his smile was cold and tight. "I believe I know who Khan truly is. When you mentioned H.I.V.E. and Genghis Khan, it became clear."

"Well, what is it?" Ms. Smoak finally spoke, timidly meeting Malcolm's eyes. "Tell us!"

He frowned, "The man whom you have named as Khan is actually Damien Darhk, if I'm not mistaken."

"And are we supposed to know who that is?" Mr. Harper snarked, eyes flashing. "What is he? A beekeeper? You know, his hive."

Malcolm sighed roughly, "It's an acronym, Mr. Harper. It's just like-"

"Son of a bitch!" Mr. Diggle interrupted, "I should have known that, or had a suspicion at the very least."

"No, son of a bitch is not an acronym, Mr. Diggle," he raised an eyebrow. "Anyway, H.I.V.E. is an organization which stands for  _History Involves Victors Eternal_ , a philosophy that revolves around: only victors matter in history, that history itself is written by the victors."

Ms. Lance deflated, "Well, this Damien Darhk isn't wrong, is he? That is true, but what about the Genghis Khan stuff? Is it because the warlord was declared a victor by history, conquering almost all of Asia and much of Eastern Europe?"

"First, you must know who exactly Damien Darhk is, Ms. Lance." Malcolm grimaced and didn't even attempt to hide his wariness from them. "Damien Darhk is a former member of the League of Assassins who, after fleeing from Nanda Parbat in fear for his life, conscripted his own organization that has been a thorn in the League's side ever since. And for you to understand how dangerous this man is, he had once even been considered for the position of Demon's Head." He took in their suddenly pale faces, not giving them enough time to respond. "In fact, Ra's Al Ghul, in my own presence, has called Damien Darhk his most bitter foe."

Mr. Diggle swallowed and collapsed in the chair, "Holy shit, this is insane."

"And what about the Genghis Khan stuff? Is he obsessed with him, then?" Ms. Lance suddenly asked once again.

"From what Ra's Al Ghul had shared with me, Damien Darhk is a direct descendant of Genghis Khan, thus creating the obsession, and he has attempted to rival his ancestor's pillages; he seeks for his name to echo through history, cemented in eternity like Genghis Khan's."

Mr. Harper looked at him, "And what of his metahuman powers? Was he in Central City during the explosion?"

"I do not know, Mr. Harper, but rumors have circulated for years that Damien Darhk has partook in the occult arts." He suddenly realized how grave a threat that Starling City was facing, and he realized that if he refused to cleanse the city - the world - of Damien Darhk and Mr. Brickwell, then he would be undoing all of the meticulous plans that he had forfeited his life towards in regards to his Undertaking. He refused to let that happen, a manic determination flushing through his heart. "We attack tonight, taking them off-guard. Stand up, you damned fools! You wanted my help, here it is. And this is my advice: attack now, giving them no extension to plan their agenda. We already know where their base is, so we can strike."

After several moments, Mr. Diggle nodded, "I agree," he stood from the chair. "Roy, you and I will go with Merlyn to the Glades and hopefully, snuff out this spark before it becomes an inferno. Felicity, you and Laurel will stay here and man the comms. We all need to work together no matter our personal feelings, agree?"

Ms. Lance slowly nodded, and then looked at Malcolm, fire burning in her eyes. "I despise you with every drop of blood in my body; your very presence in this room is an insult to my being, but until this threat is exterminated, I will work with you, okay? But make no mistake, Merlyn, the moment when the smoke clears, I will kill you."

Malcolm actually smiled at her words, "I understand, Ms. Lance, and whether you believe me or not, I respect your commitment, your ability to do what you must."

Mr. Harper stood up and yanked Oliver's uniform off the mannequin, "All right, since we're doing this, let's do it."

"You have my word that I will meet you at the barrier to the Glades in an hour, understand?" Malcolm didn't give them a chance to reply as he left the lair.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Well, I'll be, I see that you kept your word," Mr. Harper snarked. "I'm surprised, Merlyn, I didn't think that you had it in you."

Malcolm was tempted to fire an arrow into the brat's chest, but knew that Thea would then receive the feed, so he refrained from succumbing to his urge. Instead, he smiled coldly beneath his mask. "Mr. Harper, I will never let it be said that my word is that of a snake's. I have always been honest and you will find it to be true if you simply think about it."

"Bullshit, Merlyn!" Mr. Harper snarled, taking a step forward.

"No, no, it's true. It's not my fault if my words have ever been taken in a context that I didn't mean."

"Enough, you two," Mr. Diggle slammed a new clip of bullets into his gun. "Come on, no watchers have been sighted."

Malcolm silently followed the two men, keeping his eyes alert and diligent, searching for threats, for bodies on rooftops, but he didn't find anything. And when they finally entered the gravel lot which Mr. Harper had mentioned previously, nobody was seen.

It was disconcerting.

"Might I recommend something, gentlemen?" He asked rhetorically in a hiss as they continued onward. "We need to stay together, specifically you two if you wish to live, which I assume that you do. Otherwise, you both will die."

"Brave talk, Merlyn, but you have no defense against Darhk's powers."

"And neither do you, Mr. Harper, but the only threat to me out of anyone whom we could face is Damien Darhk, not the others - whereas you two cannot claim the same."

They all silently walked into the home, the large windows showcasing no figures. Ruined furniture was stacked against the wall, and they continued onward, Malcolm's eyes attuned for the slightest sound. It looked abandoned and he feared that the scum of criminals had moved locations when the hair on the back of his neck prickled.

Trusting his instincts, he whirled around and fired an arrow between Mr. Harper and Mr. Diggle's bodies, whom both jumped to the side in outrage, the arrow headed straight for a handsome, thinly blonde-haired man, who was dressed in a finely-tailored suit.

To Malcolm's utmost dread, the arrow simply floated in front of the man, who he now knew was Damien Darhk.

"What the fuck was that?" Mr. Harper snarled, reaching for his own arrow to fire at Malcolm.

Then, Damien Darhk spoke, "I believe, bow-wielder, that my old friend has discovered my location." Mr. Harper and Mr. Diggle slowly turned around, eyes connecting with Darhk's vivid blue ones. "Did you do as I had asked, bow-wielder? Did you spread my proclamation?"

"I have help, don't I?" Mr. Harper's voice modulator did nothing to hide the boy's fear.

"Yes, I see that, a member of my old friend's army, nonetheless - a skilled one, at that." Suddenly, the arrow fell to the ground and Malcolm felt his body seized by an unknown force, yanking him towards Darhk, who had also seized control of the men beside him. "I am the only one here, you know? I had ordered everyone else to depart for my base of operations, a place much nicer than this dump that Brick had chosen."

"And where's your base?" He dared, wondering if he could entrap Darhk with his words, especially since it seemed that Darhk believed that Malcolm still currently worked in the League. "The Demon's Head-"

"I know my friend far more than you ever will, Shadow." Darhk suddenly gripped his throat, a terrible strength in his hands. "The only reason you still breathe is that I want you to give Ra's Al Ghul a message for me. I do not yearn to go to war against the League of Assassins, and I am not a fool. Tell him that my plan incorporates the death of evil, but it is my plan and I want him nowhere near it. In fact, it is none of his business, so tell him to go fuck himself, okay? I recognize and wholly respect the power of the Demon's Head, but you can tell him of my newfound power." Darhk let go of Malcolm's throat, wiggling his finger, and he gasped as his limbs bent at unnatural angles, bones and tendons stretching to their limits. "It seems that I have now gained more power than Ra's Al Ghul himself, doesn't it? You tell him that, and I'm pretty certain that he will see the merits of my generosity."

Malcolm fell to his knees, along with Mr. Harper and Mr. Diggle, trying to forget the alien feel of not having control of his own body. To keep his apparent 'cover', he looked back up at Damien Darhk's smug face. "I will report your words to Ra's Al Ghul, Damien Darhk,"

"Make sure that you do, Shadow. I must say that it is, indeed, a surprise that you had sought to align yourself with these costumed-fools,"

"I needed your location, Damien Darhk, and they were the only ones who knew it, refusing to give it unless they joined me."

Damien Darhk's laughter was sudden and boisterous as he looked at Mr. Harper instead of Malcolm. "You know, bow-wielder, you amuse me so much that I'll keep you alive for now - and your little friend, too." Darhk backed away, the shadows molding around his form, "A word of advice, though: leave Starling City, especially if death makes you nauseous. I do commend you for your crusade of playing hero, but those times are over. Retire, I advise you, and then you and your little whore can spawn some bright-eyed children. The world is changing and only those who are wise enough can move with it."

In moments, Darhk was gone and Malcolm closed his eyes tightly, inhaling slowly, keeping his mind calm as it raced with doubts and fears.

Slowly, he stood up and exited the building, not even waiting for the others to follow. He didn't even care that his feet crunched the gravel, making noise; he was past the point of concealment.

"Merlyn!" Mr. Diggle ran towards him, Mr. Harper right behind him. "What can we do?"

Malcolm stopped walking and looked at them, "And what are you wanting me to say, Mr. Diggle? In layman's terms, Starling City is lost, a fool's errand to attempt to save it. Damien Darhk has his entire organization and many criminals such as Daniel Brickwell working with him. To defeat such opposition, you need an army - specifically, the League of Assassins."

Mr. Harper looked nervous, "Would you be willing to speak with Ra's Al-"

He barked out a harsh laugh, "No, no, I'm not, Mr. Harper, not one bit. The sooner that you can see the truth, the sooner that you and your crew of misfits can prepare for your futures. You do have a family now, don't you, Mr. Diggle?"

"Don't you bring my family into this, Merlyn," Mr. Diggle hissed out, fists clenched.

"You all must begin to ask yourselves the hard questions. Without Oliver, there is no hope for Starling City." With that finally said, he continued walking, leaving them behind in their misery.

Malcolm needed to get to Thea and convince her to leave with him out of Starling City. And on top of that, he had to reveal the news of Oliver's death and destroy her cell phone so Ms. Smoak could not send the feed to it.

It was something that he intended to do the moment when he returned to the apartment.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She stared at the contraption in puzzlement, wondering why Oliver had suddenly walked towards it. The building was elegant, the style of the upper class, and only those who could afford that lifestyle were allowed entry.

Before they had arrived at the building, Oliver had divulged that she must remove her sword and hide her bow someplace. After consideration, she had asked him what floor they would be staying on, which room specifically. Catching onto her train of thought, he had pulled them into the alley, pointing near one of the top floors, a balcony blotted out by his finger.

Attaching a sturdy cable to her sword, she had fired an arrow at the balcony, watching with a critical eye as it had connected, stuck in the cement, the sword dangling from the string, almost invisible to anyone who didn't know what to look for.

Then, to get her bow up there, Oliver had gripped the bow, tying a cable around it, while Nyssa had only pulled the string back that held the arrow, pointed at the balcony. After a confirmed nod, Nyssa had released the string and almost simultaneously, Oliver had let go of the bow, both slinging through the air until they were connected to the balcony.

Before she could then react, Oliver had plucked her quiver of arrows off and hidden them underneath his jacket, citing that security wouldn't dare check him for anything. Then, Nyssa had taken her own jacket and covered her armor, just as she had done on the bus with all of the passengers.

When they had entered the building, security had immediately glided across the smooth floor towards them, eyes hooked on Oliver, not recognizing him as Oliver Queen, but as a threat. And Nyssa hadn't been able to blame them. His beard was long and full, and his hair fell to near his shoulders; he looked like an incredibly dangerous man instead of the handsome son of a millionaire.

Oliver had calmly handled the situation when the guards had finally recognized him, flabbergasted at his appearance, but they had easily accepted Oliver's words about taking a vacation in Europe and wanting to style himself as the Europeans did.

Now, seeing Oliver standing in front of the contraption without moving, Nyssa stepped forward in concern, wondering if he was somehow beginning to panic, "What is it? What's wrong? Why did you come to this… thing?"

At her words, Oliver suddenly glanced down at her and she was immensely relieved to see no panic or anxiety in his eyes, only bemusement as he spoke softly towards her. "Nothing's wrong, Nyssa, I just stopped at the…" he trailed off and his eyes widened slightly. "You don't know what an elevator is?" His tone was as close to one of whispered-aghast that she had ever heard.

"I know what an elevator is, Oliver," she crossed her arms, feeling almost defensive. "Sara told me about them."

"But you've never been on one, have you? Or for that matter, seen one?" Oliver suddenly laughed, and she watched as the pain appeared on his features immediately, his hand rushing up to rub his throat.

"Sara said that an elevator was a device that was designed to lower things, or people, to different levels of a structure." She pointed at the metal door. "I don't see any lines or cables, so how could this be an elevator?"

He finally swallowed, his voice a careful whisper, "You'll see, okay? Come on, I want to get this over with." She thought that that was a strange way of describing what they were about to do, but paused in her thoughts when he then pressed a circular button and it lit up, the metal doors suddenly screeching open, making Nyssa tense in preparation for an attack. But Oliver simply grabbed her hand and pulled her into the contraption, the doors sliding behind him.

The interior was grand and she observed the buttons with numbers, assuming each number was designated for each floor of the building. She could feel the box moving upward and looked at Oliver, "I would have never guessed that this was an elevator," she admitted.

"I can understand that, don't worry," he smiled and finally, the elevator stopped, a ding echoing as the doors slid open. Oliver's face smoothed out, losing his smile. "We're here, come on."

He stepped out silently and she was slightly worried that his mindset wasn't of a brother about to be reunited with his little sister after months away, but she didn't say anything. Passing intricately-decorated doors, he finally stopped in front of one, labeled, she noticed, with a plaque engraved with the letters:  _Queen, T_.

Oliver pulled out a card that had been given to him by the front desk of the building after explaining that he had lost his old key in Europe somewhere. The guards had chuckled and easily procured another for him, not even imagining a lie in his story. Now, as Nyssa watched him, Oliver slid his new card into a slit on the door, punching in several numbers on the keypad above the handle. After several tense moments, there was an audible click and he quickly twisted the handle, opening the door.

"Dad?" A voice echoed, and Nyssa knew that she was about to meet Thea Queen. "Where have you…" the voice trailed off as Oliver fully walked into, what Nyssa noticed, was an immensely elegant and richly-furnished room. She trailed in silently behind Oliver, observing the young woman who stood frozen at the base of the stairs to the right. Thea Queen blinked before a huge and genuine smile split her features, "Ollie!" She dashed at Oliver and Nyssa's breath hitched, narrowly refraining from attempting to kill the girl after she realized that Thea Queen wasn't going to harm Oliver. "It's been months! I thought that something had happened."

Oliver had engulfed his sister in a hug and Nyssa quietly shut the door. "Sorry, I kind of really needed the time away."

Thea Queen pulled back in shock, concern carved into her face. "Woah! What's wrong with your voice?" She trailed off, seeming to fully observe her older brother. "You look like a hobo, Ollie. What the hell?" Her eyes trailed over towards Nyssa and instantly narrowed, "And who is this?" Nyssa met the girl's stare evenly, unimpressed; honestly, she had expected… more of the woman who had been willing to trust Malcolm Merlyn.

"My name is Nyssa," she stepped forward and aligned herself next to Oliver, something that Thea Queen didn't fail to notice. "I'm his friend- "

"Yeah, right," the girl snorted, rolling her eyes. "More like a… beneficial friend."

She felt Oliver tense next to her at the insinuation but she merely laughed quietly. "I have been quite beneficial towards him, you know? The only reason that he was let out of jail was that of me."

Thea Queen's eyes widened and all hints of disdain left of her as she stared at her elder brother in disbelief. "You were in jail? That's why you were gone so long? What did you do this time?"

Oliver sighed heavily, glaring at Nyssa for a brief moment. "I kind of… ruined a concert."

"How so?"

"I slept with the band leader's sister," Nyssa frowned at his words, ignoring the outrage that flushed through her. "The band leader was unimpressed and punched me in the throat, hence the permanent whisper; my vocal cord nodules and polyps had become irreversibly damaged the doctors declared. Anyway, I punched back and a massive brawl broke out, a few deaths happening, and I was who was blamed. I was imprisoned and Nyssa…" he seemed to search for a viable lie.

"Wait," Thea said, leaning forward, trying to hear more clearly. "Please don't tell me that she's the band leader's sister!"

For some reason, Nyssa spoke before Oliver could, "Yes, I am, and I went to the authorities with the truth, and eventually, your brother was released."

Oliver didn't speak and moved further into the apartment, "So you're waiting for Malcolm Merlyn, aren't you, Thea?" Nyssa tensed at the dark tone his voice had taken on and she finally realized, as she was watching his stiff form and the dark aura that surrounded him, that her hatred for Malcolm Merlyn paled in comparison to Oliver's.

"Look, I know that- "

"You know nothing, Thea," his voice cut through the room. "I know the truth, though, and I'm going to share it with you; I'm sickened by all of the lies." Nyssa's eyes widened slightly, shocked that he would just tell his sister. "None of what Nyssa and I just shared with you was true at all, actually."

"Oliver," she began, "are you sure that now is the right time?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Ollie?" Thea Queen demanded before he could reply, "What happened, then? Why do you always have your secrets?"

When he whirled around to face both of them, the cold rage carved into his face was as great an answer as any words. "Yes, I am, Nyssa. Malcolm will soon be here, and I would love to see my dear… godfather - stepfather now, I suppose - again."

Thea Queen stepped forward, arms crossed, "What the hell is going on? Tell me!"

Oliver stared at his sister for several moments, Nyssa watching as every hint of love for his sister faded behind a mask of intense fury and pain. "Listen close because I'm about to reveal secrets to you. First off, I know something about you that I would only know if I was someone else."

"What?"

"You told the vigilante known as the 'Arrow' to stay away from you and your father, attacking him like a mere frightened kitten. Now, how would I possibly know those things? Along with the fact that this window behind me was shattered during the Arrow's entry, when he asked where Malcolm Merlyn was?"

Nyssa watched as Thea Queen's eyes bulged from her sockets, breathing stalled, realization carved into her pale skin. "You're him…" she swallowed, touching her undoubted racing heart. "That night with the… the hoods after the Glades' earthquake, and that woman in black, who was Ra's Al Ghul's daughter." Oliver's eyes darted towards Nyssa, but he didn't interrupt. "That was you, Ollie? All of those times when you blew me off with lies, when I would become so angry, you were actually saving lives, making the world safer."

"Yes, it was me, but that's not the only truth you must know."

Thea Queen suddenly looked nervous, "What else could there be?"

Nyssa smiled tightly. "A lot more, Thea,"

Oliver inhaled, "A warning: this one is going to fill you with emotional agony. While you were gone with Malcolm at Corto Maltese, you thought that he loved you, right? You deluded yourself and your oh-so-loving father took advantage of your naivety. He drugged you, Thea."

"Hey!" Thea snapped, looking outraged and quite eerily similar to Oliver in that moment. "You have no right to show up after months away, right after spilling the beans about you being the Arrow - which you then attacked me! - and- "

"He has every right!" Nyssa interrupted, "He's been through things you could never even fathom, so listen to him."

Thea Queen turned to stare at her in disbelief, looking insulted. "You don't have a say in this, Nyssa. This is a family matter, so why don't you leave? Matter of fact, why are you even here if you aren't the band leader's sister?" Nyssa had vowed to give Oliver's sister a chance after she had learned that Sara was killed by her, but now, she was making it extremely difficult.

"You will not talk to her that way!" Oliver coughed out, rubbing his throat, pain flashing through his features. "The only reason I'm alive is that of her; she has been more valuable in my life than anyone else." The girl looked hurt and Nyssa took a fierce pride, and an emotion that she didn't wish to name, from Oliver's words. She stared at him, wondering what he would do now, how he would handle the situation.

"What are you talking about?" The question was asked quietly, and Thea Queen stared down at the floor, looking defeated.

Oliver clenched his jaw, "If I didn't know it to be actually true, I wouldn't tell you, but I must because you need to learn from your mistakes, from your egregious actions. Sara visited Starling City in the early fall season and it was at this same time when Malcolm drugged you with something called Votura: a substance that, for whoever consumes it, makes one extremely susceptible to any suggestion or order, no matter what it is, while having no memory of their actions while under the substance's effects."

Silence blanketed the room for several moments until it was pierced by Thea Queen.

"I… ki- killed her, di- didn't I?" The girl fell to her knees, staring at the floor, ignoring a stunned Nyssa and Oliver. "I killed Sara, my fri- friend."

"How do you know that?" Oliver demanded, looking harsh.

Thea Queen looked up, and the absolute guilt and sorrow, along with the tears spilling down her cheeks, helped most of Nyssa's anger at the girl vanish. "I've been having dreams for months now of Sara dy- dying by my hand, shooting three arrows into her chest. But I have thought that they were nightmares - that's it. But I was wrong. That's ho- how she died, isn't it? The three arrows to her che- chest?"

Oliver inhaled roughly, nodding his head sadly. "Yes, it is, and because of your actions, the League of Assassins, an organiza- "

"I know what the League is, Ollie," the girl whispered out, eyes clenched shut. "Dad- …Malcolm told me about it and how he was being hunted."

"Sara was a member of the League of Assassins," Nyssa declared, walking up to stand next to Oliver when it looked like he couldn't speak any longer, whether because of his injury or emotional upheaval, she didn't know. "Malcolm Merlyn manipulated you, without your own will, to murder her, Ta-er al-Asfar. Ra's Al Ghul is the le- "

"The Demon's Head, the most dangerous man in the world," Thea interrupted, voice quivering, but the emotion of her words were blank. "He is the leader of the League."

Nyssa nodded, "And he is my father," she felt guilty when Thea Queen's head snapped up towards them so fast, a mass of muted terror, eyes wide and blood drained from her features as she scrambled away, stumbling over her own feet.

"You're the woman in black!"

"Yes, I am, but you needn't worry, Thea. My eyes have been opened by your brother and I am his greatest and most-loyal ally now. The guilt for Sara's death is not yours - it is Malcolm Merlyn's alone. But because your father videoed you killing Sara," she ignored Thea Queen's choked sob as the girl fell to her knees again. "Oliver was forced to battle my father, where he was then flung off of a mountain and died, his body broken almost beyond repair. Hence, the hobo look and the permanent whisper."

"Nyssa saved my life, resurrecting me using arcane powers that the League has access to," Oliver cut in with his whisper, eyes glazed over, concerning Nyssa. "For the past months, I've been traveling back to Starling City with her by my side, vengeance in my heart." He leaned forward, face a ravaged, hideous snarl. "Malcolm will die when he returns to your apartment, and there will be no changing my mind, not even if you beg for it."

Silence reigned supreme through the apartment for several moments, save for Thea's bitter weeping, until finally, the girl sniffed, wiping away her tears. "I'm sorry, so sorry. It- …it's my fault, ever- everything."

"If you wish to go rent a hotel room tonight while Nyssa and I deal with Malcolm, that would be okay, probably preferable." Oliver's words were soft as he placed a steady hand on his sister's shoulder.

"No," the girl shook her head rapidly, surprising Nyssa. "No, I want to… watch."

Oliver frowned, "I don't think that you do - and plus, I'm not going to let you. Your emotions are out of control, so why don't you let us deal with Malcolm, okay?"

"I need to face him!" She cried out, more tears spilling down her pale, and yet flushed, cheeks. "Please, I'll give him a piece of my mind, and then I'll leave. You'll be free to… kill him."

"Very well," Oliver's tone was conflicted but he turned towards Nyssa. "Procure your weapons from the balcony, and then I'll reveal my plan."

Before Nyssa could even turn around, though, Thea wiped away more of her tears, the distraught echo in her eyes apparent, but the girl forcefully chuckled. "Just to be certain, you two didn't sleep together. Is that right?" The air left Nyssa's lungs in a rush as the words from Thea's question echoed in her mind.

Oliver didn't even blink, "No, we didn't," he turned towards her. "Grab your weapons before Malcolm gets here."

She could do nothing except nod her head and turn around, stepping onto the balcony, wondering about the emotions welling in her, fearing the suspected depths of them.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Malcolm, to his reluctance, hurried up the stairs, easily slipping through the security and guards of the building. He had to reach Thea before Oliver's disciples could potentially send the feed out of spite against him. Keeping his head down, passing oblivious men on the stairwell, he finally reached the floor. He swiped his card through the scanner and the door to the hall unlocked; he quickly pushed it open and walked rapidly, footsteps echoing in the hall, towards he and Thea's apartment.

When he reached it, he slid the card in, freezing when the door unlocked; a foreboding shadow had planted its roots in his mind, warning him, tormenting him. There was only one reason why: the League had found them. His worry for his daughter erupted in his mind and he stepped into the apartment, preparing to kill anyone who wasn't his daughter.

"You know, it's quite rude when you don't knock," a voice echoed and he whirled towards the source, breath leaving his lungs in a rush when he stared at Nyssa Al Ghul. She smiled coldly at him, her neck craned back toward where he was standing, looking elegant while sitting on the couch calmly. "Did you know that I had never been in an elevator until today? They are quite fascinating."

"What do you want?" He bit out, "Where is my daughter?"

Nyssa Al Ghul raised an eyebrow, "What do I want, you ask? Well, your life is what I want - and your blood to stain my armor." A flash of rage burned in her eyes, "It's been a long time coming, Al Sa-her."

Malcolm inhaled slowly, trying to subtly scan the apartment, searching for any Shadows she might have brought with her, looking to see if Thea was held hostage. "And where is my daughter, Nyssa?"

She stood up from the couch and turned around, a sword held in her hand. "You should know that you have no right to call her your daughter. Not even my father, for all of the vast burdens he had placed upon me, would do what you did to your own blood." His eyes widened and he instinctively knew that she knew the full scope of Ms. Lance's death.

"Oliver told you," he bit out, cursing who-he-thought-of-as-his-own-son. "That conniving bastard," he growled out, feeling his emotions beginning to become frazzled. Where was Thea?

A laugh escaped Nyssa Al Ghul's lips, echoing in the room. "You're one to talk, Al Sa-her, but you're right: yes, Oliver did tell me," she motioned with her hand and to Malcolm's horror, Thea rose off of the couch, arms crossed over her stomach. "Since Thea is quite small, she easily reclined on the couch, hidden from your view, whilst we just talked. And I must say, before you had arrived, she had been a sparkling conversationalist."

"Thea?" He called out, scanning her appearance, but besides the paleness of her cheeks and tear-stained eyes, nothing looked wrong. "Did she hurt you?"

His daughter's eyes ignited, "She didn't hurt me, but you did - in ways I had never imagined! How could you? You used me as a… as a tool to discard when you were through!"

Malcolm's lips parted and he felt a snarl cross his lips. He glared at Nyssa Al Ghul, "You mewling cur! You dared tell her?"

"Of course, I did, Al Sa-her." Nyssa smiled dangerously, "I did my duty as a friend- "

"And I'm glad that she did!" His daughter stomped towards him, looking quite similar to her departed mother. "You snake, you depraved fuck! How could you force me to mur- murder my… friend?"

"She should not have told you that!" He snapped, "She had no right!"

"Yes, she should have," his daughter's eyes resembled crackling flames, burning with self-loathing and fury. "I trusted you, let you into my life, let you train me. I thought that you had been teaching me how to be strong, but you weren't, were you? I hate you, you bastard. You were only teaching me how to be weak, susceptible to words that were lies. I chose you over my own brother, and Ollie is now- …" a fierce sob erupted from his daughter and Malcolm knew that Nyssa Al Ghul had revealed Oliver's demise. His daughter began to shake, "How could you do this to me?" The broken echo in her words pierced through Malcolm's heart.

He tried to place a hand on her shoulder, but she smacked his hand aside angrily, the sting in his heart far more painful than his hand. "Because you're my daughter, Thea, and I love you."

"You sack of shit!" His daughter screamed, tears finally falling down her cheeks, spilling to the floor with explosive violence. "You're sick and you can't love anyone. You told me about your wife, but now I don't believe you. Look what you did to Tommy! And look what you've done to me! I murdered Sara, my friend, because of you." A disgusted expression, along with the self-loathing, sizzled through Thea's eyes. "I'm not your daughter and I am more ashamed than you could know to have called you my father, to have your blood - Robert Queen was my true father, not you."

"Please don't do this, Thea. Stop this!" He hissed out, trying to beseech his daughter as he had done in the past, but now, it seemed that she was immune to his words for she sneered.

"No, I'm not going to stop anything. You're going to get what you deserve, filth," his daughter purposefully spat at him, copious amounts of spittle spraying across Malcolm's face and he flinched. "When you are soon facing the abyss, the eternal punishment of fire, remember all of that you've done, remember your egregious sins," she stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door shut.

Silence echoed as Malcolm wiped the saliva off of his face, the rage spilling out of his soul.

"You've just lived your last day, Nyssa Al Ghul," he turned towards her. "You could have stayed away and left it alone, but you chose a path that led to death instead."

Nyssa Al Ghul, to his surprise, sheathed her sword, looking complete at ease except for the rage still burning in her eyes. "No, you're the one who chose the path that led to death, Merlyn. You are not going to be returned to Nanda Parbat; I'm not here to capture you for my father. In fact, Ra's Al Ghul doesn't even know that I'm here; he's in the dark as much as you."

He sneered, stepping forward, ready to attack in a moment's notice. "So a suicidal mission, I see. You're here alone, aren't you? There are no Shadows with you. You've journeyed a long way from Nanda Parbat to die. You must truly covet death, yearn to join Sara in the grave, so I will fulfill your unspoken request!"

He paused when she laughed, a true genuine laugh, "No, I do not covet death, Merlyn. I have much to live for actually, but you, nobody will mourn your inevitable death this night. You're right: there are no Shadows here, but I'm not alone." The foreboding feeling hissed in his ears once again and his fists clenched as he didn't dare look around for another person, wary that if he did, Nyssa Al Ghul would attempt to attack him. "You've been so focused on me, Al Sa-her, that you failed to realize that there is someone else in this room, someone who is far more deadly and dangerous and rage-filled than I am, a tiger who has been engulfed by the darkened shadows, hunting its prey, someone whom you fear."

XxXxXxXxXxX

She took a malicious glee in the fear that had seeped into Malcolm Merlyn's expression, the clear strong urge to turn around, but he mistakenly didn't trust his instincts. She did have to admit that Thea Queen had played her part perfectly, the true feelings of heartbreak and betrayal exploding through her, words directed at her father.

"I'm afraid of your father, but you had declared that your father wasn't here, though." Merlyn said quietly. "I can think of no one then who matches your words, so you must be lying, you quim." Nyssa watched as Oliver's form soundlessly stepped closer to Malcolm, a mass of shadowy strength and power.

Brushing her fingers across the material of the couch, she shook her head condescendingly. "Do you not remember the prophecies, Al Sa-her? You were my father's horseman, so surely he had forced you to memorize them. Do you not remember?  _'Rising from the cold hands of death, he came. From the Demon's blade, he survived his maim. A worthy heir Ra's Al Ghul will proclaim.'_  In fact, I've been speaking those words a lot lately, specifically to the one who rose from death itself."

The blood had drained from Malcolm Merlyn's face, similar to how it had drained away from Thea's own features earlier, horror carved deep into his now-sunken flesh. "Ol- Oliver's alive?" He swallowed when a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder and Nyssa felt shivers travel her spine at the expression on Oliver's face: cold and unending hatred burned in his dark and deadly eyes. A monstrous snarl had curled across his lips, a display of feral savagery, looking nothing like the man whom she had grown, in ways that she didn't yet want to admit aloud, incredibly fond of, more so than of any other - not even Sara in some ways.

"No, it is you who have lived your last day, Malcolm," Oliver's whispered hiss reached her ears. "Everything until now has led to this moment - your death." Before Malcolm Merlyn could react, Oliver swept him from his feet, "Get up, I want to enjoy this, Malcolm."

Merlyn slowly rolled away from Oliver, ignoring Nyssa, firmly paying attention to the true threat. "You look quite good for someone who returned from the grave, Oliver," he said with a charming smile on his face, filling Nyssa with rage, but from the looks of Oliver, her own rage paled in comparison to his own.

"And you're looking quite good for a soon-to-be-dead man, Malcolm."

Whatever color had remained in Malcolm Merlyn's cheeks swiftly vanished, along with his charming smile, both fleeing at the sight of Oliver's fury. "I did what I had to, surely you understand!"

"I understand only one thing, Malcolm, and one thing only: when I watch the life leave your eyes, I will feel happy."

"Then I must say that I'm a little disappointed, Oliver, I had thought more of you." Merlyn subtly adjusted his position, body stiffening and tensing in preparation.

Oliver almost seemed to howl in a whisper, "Do you dare to forget that we're in this whole fucking position because of you? I died!" Oliver stomped closer, ignoring his undoubted throbbing throat, all false pretenses of a fair fight gone; now, only a slaughter would be witnessed by the walls of the apartment. "Tonight is when I correct all of my mistakes."

"So be it," Malcolm Merlyn's face had smoothed out, a gleam entering his cold eyes. "Eight years since I condemned the Queen's Gambit and over two years since our first battle has led us to this moment, so let's finish it!" Merlyn leaped at Oliver, his leg spinning around, oscillating in a full arc, but Oliver stepped forward into the kick, catching the limb, stretching it painfully upward, Merlyn's grunts of pain a soothing whisper to Nyssa's ears.

"You transformed my sister into a killer," Oliver smacked Merlyn's incoming fist aside, headbutting him, the sight, in spite of everything that she had seen in her life, making Nyssa close her eyes as the bone-breaking crack echoed in the air. Oliver shoved Merlyn back, her father's former horseman stumbling to the ground, red blood gushing out of his now-broken nose, dripping down his face, leaking from his chin like spittle. The man ignored it and quickly hopped back to his feet as Oliver advanced predatorily. "You put her in the sights of the most dangerous man in the world. And most egregiously, you sentenced me to death, a gift that I will soon bestow upon you."

Merlyn snarled, his blood-stained teeth showing, all facades of a dignified man evaporating, composure swiftly fleeing from his features, revealing the hidden malignity that had always been there. "If that be my fate, let it be yours, too! I will not die alone!" He rushed forward, pulling out a small dagger from seemingly nowhere, lunging at Oliver's chest.

Nyssa took a step forward, prepared to enter the fight, but when Oliver leaned back and crossed his arms together in a blur, trapping the hand holding the knife, she held back. She watched as he wrenched the arm to the side, but Merlyn's other fist connected with Oliver's face, making him take a step back, releasing the hold of the knife-wielding hand.

Oliver stepped back and a hideous snarl was visible across his face, black eyes wholly consuming. Malcolm tried to jab the knife at him, but Oliver smacked the arm aside, diving into Merlyn, smashing into the man's chest with an animalistic hiss, tackling the man to the ground. Punches connected with Merlyn's face, blood spurting from wounds and from her position, and Nyssa watched as one of Merlyn's cheeks caved in.

It seemed that not all of the fight had left Merlyn, though, for he jammed the knife into Oliver's thigh. Oliver didn't make a sound except for an animalistic growl as he rolled over, the knife sliding out of his thigh, still held in Merlyn's bloodied hand. They both stood to their feet, Oliver looking completely fine except for the wound in his thigh, but Merlyn resembled a practiced-on corpse, blood staining his expensive suit.

Oliver blitzed forward and heaved more punches into Merlyn's sides and face and chest. He then gripped the blood-stained lapels of the suit, avoiding the knife that was swung at him, and flung Malcolm Merlyn across the room, inhaling roughly, snarls of feral savagery echoing. Merlyn smashed into the couch that Nyssa and Thea had previously been occupying, and Nyssa herself looked down at him, raising a brow at the man mockingly.

"Have you had enough, Al Sa-her?" She quipped, but quieted, quite taken aback when he didn't even glance at her as dashed back towards Oliver, his caved-in cheek a memorable sight.

Merlyn immediately tried to swipe the knife at Oliver again, but she watched as her father's future heir ducked and spun around, smashing an elbow into Merlyn's stomach, the whoosh of air leaving lungs echoing as Merlyn gasped. Oliver then spun back around, avoiding the knife once more, as he then twisted the arm gruesomely, flipping Merlyn over his shoulder, the knife leaving numb fingers. It clattered to the floor ominously, foreshadowing Merlyn's inevitable death.

Before Merlyn could then react, Oliver pulled out one of his stolen pistols from his waistband, firing a single shot at the hand that had been trying to grab the knife, blowing it apart. Nyssa smiled slightly when Merlyn cried out in a roar of pain, shaking and thrashing, gingerly holding his now stubbed-hand.

"Your reckoning is here," Oliver fired two more shots in rapid succession, blowing apart each of Merlyn's kneecaps, the screams tearing through Merlyn's lips with no thought.

After another moment, Oliver put away the pistol and turned towards her. "I promised you his death, so he is yours."

Merlyn coughed, pale face defiant, looking up at Oliver. "I have always thought of you as my own son, you know? And honestly, I couldn't be prouder if you were truly of my blood. Well done, Oliver," he shivered, the blood loss beginning to affect him as fluid bubbled out of his blow apart knees, drifting to the floor in pools of blood.

Oliver didn't reply, instead scowling so darkly that Nyssa was thankful that she wasn't on the receiving end of his ire. She pulled out her sword and kneeled before Merlyn, kicking the knife away, pressing her armored knee harshly against his chest. She felt Oliver loom over her, but she didn't fear him at all; she trusted him more than anyone, and she even felt safe with him by her in such a vulnerable position. "I had always known that you had lied about Sara's death, but what I had never known was how despicable you truly were. You don't deserve to live, Al Sa-her, for you are an Avatar of evil and I will replace your existence with death."

She cherished the look of fear in his dark, brown eyes and she slashed her sword abruptly, tearing through skin and arteries and muscles. Her vision was filled with red as blood spurted and erupted from Malcolm Merlyn's throat, seeping from the slit in a river of crimson. Merlyn's eyes were wide, shocked and they shone with terror and realization as he tried to push his only remaining hand to the ground, trying to push himself off the ground to draw in much-needed air, as if he could even attempt to stop the blood, but it was useless.

Slowly, his head slammed back down on the floor and blood bubbled from his lips, gurgling as he tried to pitifully speak or draw one last breath. Then, the life in his eyes faded, fleeing under the combined might of Nyssa and Oliver's fury, and the throat began to stop gushing out blood in a torrential shower - the river had run dry. The fingers on his one remaining hand slackened and his body became ever still, eternally frozen in death's embrace.

"He's finally gone," Oliver whispered over her. "It's hard to believe; he's been a part of my life for so long. I've known him since I was a mere toddler; he was there the day when I was born. Much has changed since then, though. He had once… not been a monster."

Nyssa slowly looked away from Malcolm Merlyn's corpse and stood to her feet, watching Oliver. "You mourn him, don't you?"

He glanced down at her, "Yes, I do, actually. He hadn't always been the Avatar of evil, you know? He was, in all honesty, as much a father to me as my dad. I learned a lot from him, but in spite of that, he became a depraved snake and deserved to die painfully. I don't mourn the man he became, but the man he once was."

She looked at his wound, "I can understand that, I think. But enough about Malcolm Merlyn, Oliver."

"Fair enough,"

"That wound is going to need stitching," she sighed aloud. "You know, pretty soon I'm going to run out of sutures; I keep using them all on you."

His lips twitched and his fingers ghosted over the surprisingly large gash in his thigh. "I'd rather it be me than you,"

She felt a soft smile form across her features, "You're very charming. What do they call people like that? Oh, yes, Romeo. So, you're quite charming, Romeo." She felt pleased when Oliver huffed out a small laugh, a genuine slight smile gracing his face, visible beneath his beard.

"With someone like you in my life, it's hard not to be."

XxXxXxXxXxX

**That's all for this chapter, everyone! It's quite a long one, too.**

****Barry Allen, the Flash finally appears and I had debated if I should include him, and ultimately, as you can see, I did decide to have him included. I'm not sure if he will have a bigger role, so we'll wait and see. Remember, this is all taking place in** _**Season 3** _ **which means that it is still** _**Season 1** _ **in the** _**Flash** _ **TV show.**

**Since none of them knew who Darkh truly was, they had thought that he had been talking about Barry Allen -** _**"…and soon the only man who can stop will not be able to."** _ **And since they had mistakenly believed that Darkh was somehow a metahuman, they made that assumption, which is pretty logical.**

****Malcolm Merlyn finally gets what has been coming towards him for a long time. I hope that his death was satisfactory to everyone. I had always planned his death when I began the story, so there was going to be nothing that changed my mind because, honestly, Malcolm should have died far before his death in Canon. With everything that he had done, it baffles me that Oliver or Ra's Al Ghul or Damien Darhk, or even Thea in a furious rage, had never killed him when they had had had plenty of opportunities to do so.**

**Thea finally knows the truth about everything and suffice to say, she'll have to learn to deal with her mistakes and grow from them. In Canon, I found her character arc to be so very… lacking. She trusts a known murderer in Malcolm Merlyn just because she discovers that he is her father over her own brother, and don't argue that she couldn't trust her brother or Roy, thus leading to everything in** _**Season 3.** _ **Then, nothing becomes of it, concerning her mistakes and frankly, to me, she never even seemed regretful over her choice besides brief glimpses in the episode when Oliver reveals the truth. She'll have to battle a lot more demons than those in Canon, I assure you.**

**Well, leave a comment and tell me what you had thought. I always appreciate them.**

_**Stay Safe  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


	8. Chapter 7

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I really appreciate it! It makes my day every time I see a new one.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** _**Arrow** _ **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** _**Arrow** _ **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

Experience warned him that something was wrong, but the strange thing was that his instincts, bred by years of detective work and training, were quiet. He hadn't been able to sleep since he had woken at around three in the morning, and now that the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, but not over the skyscrapers in Starling City yet, he opened his eyes and haggardly rolled out of bed.

Grabbing a shirt, he went to the bathroom, and after relieving himself, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Tired and sunken cheeks were visible and his eyes were almost bloodshot, and while he clearly needed to shave, he decided to put it off for a while longer, not even caring at this point. With the Glades continuing to be under Daniel Brickwell's control, the Starling City Police Department had been stretched thin, working unthinkable hours while the city demanded answers.

Quentin didn't have those answers, though, and neither did anyone else. Hope had blossomed in his chest when he had seen the 'Arrow' the other week on the news, carrying who looked like an unconscious Sara, but the longer that he had stared at the image, the hope had faded. It wasn't Oliver Queen in that uniform, but who-he-suspected-to-be Roy Harper.

It had taken him a long time to realize that Oliver was the one who dawned that hood, and it hadn't been until Slade Wilson's army when he had finally understood, especially when Oliver had appeared when Sara had joined them all at dinner. The pieces had finally clicked together and Sara had noticed:

" _You know, don't you?"_ Quentin had been unable to keep the frown from crossing his face at her words, her pointed look.

" _Yes, I do, he's the Arrow,"_  he had huffed out, glaring murderously at the wall.  _"He's been making a fool of me for too long - of the entire Police Force, too! He has murdered and will undoubtedly murder again."_

Sara's sigh had been loud,  _"Look, dad, I know that you don't like him, you probably never will, but please let him continue his crusade. He's doing incredible good for this city, you know that, and there are people who are watching him who are more powerful than the government."_  She had looked up at him desperately and Quentin could still remember the feel of his rage softening.  _"He's experienced things that you could never understand, that even I myself could never understand, and he also saved my life so many times that I can scarcely recall them all. Yes, he has killed, but so have I. Both my hands and his are stained red with blood, and if you can love me, you can play nice with him. Before the Island, Oliver was an arrogant asshole - and I was, too. I was selfish and purposefully seduced my sister's boyfriend. The point is, dad: the only reason why you were ever able to see me again was that of Oliver and his actions and choices. You owe him a lot more than you know."_

He had shaken his head in defeat,  _"You love him, don't you? You don't need to answer me because I can see it in your eyes, Sara. I have rightly had my qualms with Oliver in the past, but for you, I'll start fresh, okay?"_

Ever since that conversation, he had looked at Oliver Queen with new eyes and eventually, he realized that everything his daughter had said was true. And when he had realized that it was Roy Harper who had been under that hood on that image, he had felt crushed. He had even begun to feel worried about what had happened to Oliver. Where was he and why had he left Starling City unprotected for so long?

Quentin sighed and exited the bathroom, beginning the journey to the kitchen. He passed pictures of happier times and after several moments of staring at the images, he felt the unbearable ache for coffee.

The moment when he entered his kitchen, he didn't know how he knew, especially since his instincts were quiet, but he knew that someone was in his apartment. Knowing that he was being watched, probably by one of Brickwell's men, he didn't let any of his apprehension show in his movements or on his face as he stepped towards the refrigerator.

Opening the door, light pierced through the murky darkness of the kitchen, and he imitated a man who was rummaging through the fridge for food, but he was furiously thinking of how to approach the situation. Deciding that his best option would be to grab a weapon and then call for backup, he then gripped his pistol that was hidden behind the milk.

"It is good to see you again, Mr. Lance," a woman's voice echoed and Quentin whirled around, gun in hand, pointing the weapon at the outline of the woman at his table. The woman then leaned forward into the light provided by the refrigerator and Quentin's eyes widened when he recognized the woman.

"You! You're one of Sara's fellow warriors, aren't you?" He kept the gun raised, not trusting the woman, "You're also the one who poisoned my ex-wife, right?"

"I emptied your gun," she raised her closed fist above the table and slowly, as her fingers opened, bullets fell to the table, clinking against the wood.

Quentin clenched his jaw, lowering the weapon. "It did feel a little light," he admitted as he closed the refrigerator's door, snuffing out the light, and warily stepped closer to the woman, recognizing that she could kill him if she wanted to and that there would be nothing that he could do to defend himself, to fend her off. "What do you want? Why are you here?"

A sad smile graced the woman's beautiful features. "It was his idea, not mine," she gazed past him and Quentin stiffened, knowing that there was somebody behind him. He turned around and noticed the shadow of a large man stood to the side of his refrigerator. He almost groaned aloud, not understanding how he could have been so unobservant. If these two had wanted to kill him, he would long since be dead.

"I needed to speak with you," the man's voice was a whisper and Quentin leaned forward, trying to hear him. "I have come to make amends for my mistakes," the man stepped forward and before Quentin, Oliver Queen stared at him.

His lips parted, "Oli- Oliver? Where- where have- where have you been? The city has needed you!" He stepped closer. "Is this about Sara? I saw that she was hurt on the news broadcast, but it was Harper who had been under that hood, not you. What the hell happened?"

Oliver nodded, "I had always suspected since Slade's siege that you knew about my exploits, so thank you for confirming it." The man's eyes closed and Quentin was struck by the pain in his features, "I'm sorry for my absence - all I will say is that I had been grievously injured - and yes, this is about Sara."

"Good, so can you tell her to contact me?" He asked, finally sitting down on one of the stools. "She hasn't actually spoken to me in a while." If anything, his words seem to have physically struck Oliver like a blow. "What is it? What's wrong? And what the hell is the matter with your voice?"

"Oliver's voice is a permanent whisper now because of his grievous injury, Mr. Lance." The woman spoke and Quentin glanced toward her, "Sara was on a League-ordained mission many months ago in search for Malcolm Merlyn." His eyes widened but she continued before he could interrupt. "Yes, he had survived Oliver's fatal blow during the man's Undertaking. Anyway, as you might know, Thea Queen is actually Merlyn's biological daughter, not Robert Queen, and Malcolm Merlyn was once a member of the League of Assassins, the same League that Sara joined years ago."

"What a small world," he said softly, beginning to feel dread.

"My sister had been missing since Slade's attack," Oliver whispered out, sitting down at another stool, looking defeated. "And when I found her, she was in Merlyn's clutches." Quentin suddenly had a terrible feeling as Oliver continued. "And she was also in Merlyn's clutches when Sara had been on her mission. As a result, because Malcolm was a fucking callous and cruel father, Thea was drugged with a hallucinogenic and memory-warping substance by him, the man who claimed to be her father - and whom blood said so, too…" a look of devastation crossed Oliver's features and Quentin suddenly couldn't breathe.

"She's gone, isn't she?" He choked out, pressing a shaking hand to his chest. "My ba- …baby girl is- she's gone? She was… murdered?" A sob was stuck in his throat and tears welled in his eyes, the unimaginable agony of knowing that his youngest daughter was dead again crushing his heart.

Oliver swallowed and a brief show of sorrow flashed through his features, "I'm so sorry, I should have told you, but… I was too much of a coward, and Laurel demanded that I keep it a secret. She was, I can only assume, who it was whom you saw on the bike with Roy on the television."

"Oliver has spent these past months finding Malcolm Merlyn, and with my help, found him. Merlyn will never again take a daughter or a son from their father and mother." The woman suddenly pulled something onto the table and Quentin choked on a horrified gasp as the head of Malcolm Merlyn stared at him, dried blood stained on lifeless skin. "I loved Sara - and Oliver did, too," the woman shook for a moment and Quentin remembered his daughter -  _his dead daughter!_ \- mentioning a relationship between her and someone named 'Nyssa'. "We all mourn her death, and we all wish that she were alive. We murdered her murderer in recompense, and for closure and vengeance."

"Malcolm Merlyn kill- killed my- …he killed my little girl?" He stuttered out, staring at the head of the dead man, and the sight didn't make him squeamish; he was a detective and had seen a lot of gruesome sights during his life. What did make him faint, though, was the knowledge that his baby girl had been butchered on the man's orders, and Quentin hadn't known, had been left in the dark on the orders of his own daughter. Grief was an unbearable burden on his shoulders and he felt weak, his fingers scratching at the table desperately, trying to do anything that would relieve the pain.

"Yes, and we killed him, letting Sara's murderer experience the abyss of the afterlife." Nyssa nodded her head, and to his surprise, he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

Quentin inhaled roughly, keeping the unthinkable grief at bay for now and his body shook, but his voice remained steady, "Thank you for… for notifying me, Oliver and Nyssa," he bit his lip, trying to keep the sobs from overwhelming him; he didn't know how much longer he could last. "And thank you for sending that piece of shit to hell."

"Malcolm had it a long time coming, Quentin, and I know that my words might seem hollow to you, but Sara was a strong person and I'm sorry." He raised his head to look at Oliver and the raw pain on the man's features was visible, and Quentin dimly wondered what had changed Oliver Queen from the selfish boy who he had once been into the respectable man who now sat next to him. "My choices led to her death; she got on the Gambit because of me and was drawn into the darkness, thus leading to her death."

He stood up slowly and walked around the table, and then he placed his shaking and tremor-struck hand on Oliver's shoulder. "You're not to blame for her… murder, Oliver," he felt more tears spill down his cheeks and refrained from succumbing to the deep anguish in his heart for just a little longer. "You didn't force Sara to get on the Gambit with you, and you didn't force her to seduce you, Oliver. She made her choices and she had to live with the consequences; and no matter those consequences, I was so proud of the woman whom she had become. Thank you, Oliver, for finally telling me, and thank you for shaping my baby girl into a woman who made me prouder than ever before."

Oliver's hand reached up and gripped his own, and the man nodded his head, looking overwhelmed; and Quentin was able to glimpse the sorrow and scorching fury in the man's eyes. "And thank you for understanding, Quentin, I had thought that you would try to kill me. Sara's body is buried in her actual grave if you want to get proper closure," he nodded his head, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. Oliver stood slowly from his stool, "I am so sorry, Quentin, and I can't imagine what you're feeling, to lose a daughter, but don't blame Laurel; she was worried for your health."

"I'll deal with Laurel, Oliver," he opened his eyes and smiled brokenly. "I'm aware of why she would keep it from me, but it was still more than wrong. Thank you for breaking your word because no matter how shattered my heart and soul are right now, and how I'll never heal from this loss, I needed to know."

"Take care, Mr. Lance," Nyssa motioned for Oliver to follow, and Quentin noticed that the head of Malcolm Merlyn was now nowhere to be seen. "If you want to visit them, we must go."

Oliver nodded and began to walk away, but turned back when they reached the door. "If you would ever like to truly know about Sara's life during her time away, you can just ask us. We'd be willing to answer."

"I would appreciate that," he closed his eyes and when he heard the door shut, he sunk to his knees, and wept, wailing as he imagined his baby girl's corpse. He would never hug her again and never hear her voice, never be able to tell her how much he loved her and how proud he was in spite of her occupation.

The regret engulfed him fully, drowning him under its fierce and towering waves, and he collapsed, scrunching his face into the wood of the floor, his fingernails clawing at it like a rabid animal, and he was uncaring of the physical pain. It couldn't compare to the pain in his heart, and he knew that the pain would always exist, no matter the passage of time. All that would change was the severity of that pain.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He didn't know what to do, especially since Merlyn's words had been echoing in his ears. Should he just abandon Oliver's crusade? But would the others follow his lead? And Merlyn had, to his dismay, been right. What about his family? He and Lyla had Sara, and they had talked about having more children, so should he try to battle Damien Darhk and Daniel Brickwell in the pitiful hope of saving Starling City? Would it be better if he and Lyla, along with Sara, moved to Central City? Keystone?

He hung his head and sighed, trying to find peace, but all that existed inside him was turmoil and disorder. He already knew what Oliver would do, but Diggle couldn't hope to compare to his dead friend. How could he and the others hope to save Starling City without Malcolm Merlyn and the League of Assassins' aid?

"Have you given it any more thought?" Roy's voice came from behind him and Diggle turned around, watching as Roy, Felicity, and Laurel entered Verdant.

He closed his eyes, "Constantly, but I'm no closer to a decision."

Laurel nodded her head, "Me neither, but I do know that I'm unsure if this route, playing hero and vigilante, is the best to make certain that both Damien Darhk and Daniel Brickwell face justice."

"And the court system is?" Roy raised a pair of disbelieving eyebrows. "I know that you're not that foolish. Maybe that would work for Brickwell, but he should be put in a coffin; the world is a safer place without him in it. As for Darhk, the man is as old as Ra's Al Ghul, apparently. Who knows of the resources the man has at his disposal? He would never be put on trial; he undoubtedly has friends in high places who owe him. The only way to stop Darhk is to kill him and destroy his organization."

"But how could we do that, Roy?" Diggle crossed his arms. "Without the League of Assassins, we have no hope of destroying this H.I.V.E."

Felicity spoke but she refused to look at him, apparently still bitter over his words about Ray Palmer. "What about A.R.G.U.S.? Would they be willing to help?"

Roy and Laurel both stared at him and he sighed. "Waller wouldn't aid us freely. She would want something in return, if she would even be willing to help, but I'm not sure that we could give her anything of value. For all that I know, she might actually be working with Darhk. That woman would do anything, work with anyone to consolidate her own power." He then frowned and walked around the corner and the others followed, watching as he typed in the code, unlocking the door. He paused and his frown smoothed out, "Did anyone leave the lights on?"

Laurel's eyebrows furrowed, "No, I was the last one who left last night. I remember turning them off- …it's Merlyn."

"Of course it is," he sighed and slowly walked down the steps. "All right, Merlyn," he called out as he descended the stairs. "None of us know what to do, so please, in the name of your so-called love for Thea, help us all come to a common consensus about our futures." Diggle rounded the corner and froze, dimly feeling Roy bump into him, but his feet were riveted to the spot. His eyes couldn't look away from the chopped-off head of Malcolm Merlyn.

"What is it? Hey, move, Dig!" Roy snarked from behind him and Diggle felt his mouth become dry.

"I don't think that I should, Roy."

"Hurry the hell up, and why not?" Laurel barked from behind him and he instinctively knew that she was trying to peek around his form.

He couldn't, even though every signal in his body was telling him to do so, remove his eyes from the sight of the head of Merlyn, eyes fixed on the sunken bloodless flesh, of the terror permanently etched into the head's features. A thick stream of dried blood was stained past the lips and chin, abruptly ending as there was no more skin to observe, and the outline of Merlyn's nose bone was crushed, mangled severely, and from what he could see, jagged in multiple places, piercing slightly through several areas of the dead flesh.

"I don't know how to say this gently, so I'll be blunt: Merlyn's decapitated head is sitting on the table."

Silence.

"What?" Felicity screeched, "This isn't the time for jokes, John!"

Roy suddenly poked his head around Diggle's arm, "You can't be serio- …fuck!" He glanced down at Roy and noticed the paleness of the kid's features, but other than that and the swallow that had audibly passed, he didn't seem too freaked out. "Motherfu- he's right, everyone. This is… Merlyn's head is… it's on the table, dead eyes… staring directly at us. Holy shit, this is insane. Did Darhk do this?"

"I don't know of anyone else alive, including Slade Wilson, who could except Ra's Al Ghul," he said softly, stricken by the sight, at the undoubtable power of the man or woman who did this to Merlyn.

Laurel suddenly shoved her way through, freezing when she caught sight. Her eyes were wide and nausea spread across her features, but it looked like she managed to keep it contained for she inhaled roughly, a curious calm descending across her features and Diggle understood: it was the calm of the observer. "I can't say that I'm sad one bit to see him dead, but this is something else, something inhumane." When Laurel shifted to look closer, he saw that Felicity was finally able to glimpse the head and abruptly, he watched sympathetically as she gagged and then retched, the remains of what looked like her breakfast splashing onto the floor in buckets of vomit. Laurel shuddered and stepped away from the spewed puke, and continued. "It looks like he was tortured before being guillotined, a terrible death that he probably deserved, but I can't support such animalistic practices. His death must have been… painful beyond imagining. I always thought that Merlyn deserved a bullet between his eyes, but that's it. He didn't deserve… that torture."

"I'm surprised to hear that considering your actions immediately following Sara's death." A whispered voice said to their left and Diggle whirled to the side and felt reality freeze, the world crashing down around him. A manic and delirious haze of astonishment and disbelief swept through him at the sight of Oliver standing by the computer, arms hanging to his sides, and the group was speechless for several moments.

"Oliv- Oliver?" Roy finally gasped out, lurching forward in shock. "That's it, I've finally… gone insane," he muttered, face white and lips parted, and the words barely pierced through the darkness suddenly surrounding Diggle's own mind. "This is one cruel dream."

Diggle took a step forward and felt all of the pain and sorrow in his heart compound into hope as it clawed through him with the ferocity of a wild animal, and he reached out his hand almost desperately. "You- you're alive? You- you were- you weren't killed? How…? Merlyn told us that you had died and when you didn't return…" he quivered in place, shaking and noticed that Laurel had braced herself against the glass case of the 'Arrow' uniform whilst Felicity had fallen to her knees in the vomit, uncaring of her ruined clothes, all the blood that she had gained back after retching immediately draining from her features in a rush, and her eyes were glassy, something akin to horror shining in them. "Oliver?" He finally asked brokenly, feeling incredibly weak, and he felt that he might collapse.

His friend's -  _his friend was alive!_  - eyes softened and he stepped closer, snagging Diggle's hand in a firm handshake, "Yes, it's me, John, I swear. It's no dream, either," and before any other whispered words could pass his friend's lips, Diggle pulled him into a fierce hug, dimly feeling Oliver stiffen, but he was too euphoric. His friend was alive!

Not wanting to let go, but knowing that he wasn't the only one who needed contact with Oliver, he stepped away, tears of joy welling in his eyes and falling down his cheeks. "You have no idea how much I've missed you, man. You're alive! …"

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" His friend's smile was small and after Diggle stepped to the side, Oliver stepped towards Roy, placing a strong hand on the boy's shoulder. "You've done well, Roy, better than you know. Someone said this to me: you are stronger than you know. And it applies to you, as well. You're tough, Roy, physically and mentally and emotionally."

Roy closed his eyes and nodded, and Diggle could see a weight leave his shoulders, standing taller, tears welled in his own eyes. "I'm so happy to see you,"

Oliver's face still showed the small smile that graced his lips. "Me too, Roy. It hasn't been easy," his eyes gazed past Roy and connected to Laurel's, and Diggle saw the small smile stretch just a bit. "I see that you survived my death a second time," he stepped past Roy and Laurel swallowed, face still pale, but her tears had already streaked a path down her cheeks.

She sniffed and a watery smile split her lips. "Ollie, I… I'm happy that you're here," she suddenly jumped forward and Diggle didn't miss the way that Oliver almost looked ready to smack her aside, but at the last second, seemed to catch himself, instead wrapping his own arms around her, pulling her into his chest tightly as she cried.

"And I'm happy to see you again," his friend whispered and Diggle finally realized that Oliver hadn't spoken in anything but a whisper since he had… revealed himself. A feeling of terrible foreboding washed over him and he slowly turned towards Merlyn's chopped-off head and the dead man's terror-filled eyes intensified the feeling, the dried, copious amount of blood adding fuel to the realization.

He whirled back around when Roy nudged him harshly with his elbow, a panicked expression on his face. "You noticed it, too, huh? What's wrong with him? I realized it only moments before you did. He doesn't seem himself; his voice is a hiss, a permanent whisper!"

Diggle's breathing elevated and he quickly looked back at Oliver, but only to see that he was now greeting Felicity. Her features were chalk white, eyes brimming with buckets of tears, and her hands began to shake where they were clenched across her vomit-coated knees.

His friend's face was unreadable, but he nodded not unkindly. "Hello, Felicity," his tone was terribly blank and it filled Diggle with dread, especially when Felicity's face puckered, emotions crossing her features in a whirlwind of upheaval until grandiose relief settled across them. She lunged at Oliver's legs and sobs like those of a little girl echoed in the air.

Laurel finally seemed to notice that something wasn't right for she touched his arm, "John, I don't understand. He doesn't seem happy to see her. He's just standing there, not helping her up," her words were barely audible, but he heard them clearly enough. "He seems colder than winter itself."

"He's alive and that's what matters, but I don't know, Laurel. It's been over four months since…" he couldn't even finish the sentence, not understanding everything that had happened with Ra's Al Ghul. Was the Demon's Head dead? Had Merlyn lied? What had happened to Oliver? He swallowed, "I suspect that things have changed for him; he was gone for a long time. And who knows who he encountered and how he survived that… that fall? Merlyn said that his- his body fell into a ravine…" so many questions had suddenly arisen in his mind that he felt nauseous.

"Oh, shit." Roy's body tensed and he frantically pointed towards where Oliver's sight had been drawn. "It's the blade!" He hissed out, worry carved into his features. "He's looking directly at- …I have a bad feeling, Dig."

Diggle felt the floor become swiped out from under his feet for the second time in as many minutes. Oliver had become motionless. Felicity was still crying at his feet, but his friend's eyes were riveted on the blood-stained sword that Merlyn had given them what felt like an eternity ago. There was a horrifying tightness in his friend's body, a sense of barely constrained power and aggression and violence that conveyed a pure threat more so than any spoken words.

Laurel saw it, too, for she stepped forward, horror and fear etched into her expression. "Felicity! GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

He knew then, that when Oliver's fists clenched, the sound impossibly audible, something had somehow gone terribly wrong.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Watching everything from the rafters above, Nyssa leaned forward in alarm. After disposing of Merlyn's body and stitching Oliver's gash in his thigh, he had requested that they notify Sara's father of her death the next morning before visiting his team, revealing that Sara's sister, Laurel, had begged him not to tell her father, and because of his immense guilt, Oliver had mistakenly complied.

After she had overcome her surprise at the request, she nodded and suggested that he then finally 'clean' his physical appearance, cutting and trimming his hair and beard. Oliver had consented and when he had exited, what she suspected to be the bathing quarters or a bathroom as Sara had always called it, Nyssa had been struck at the sight of his appearance.

Ever since his resurrection, she had known that she was growing frighteningly fond of Oliver, but the roots behind the deep affection and fondness had always been because of the connection and bond that they had shared. But when she had looked at him for the first time after he had 'cleaned' himself up, it had been a shock to feel an emotion that she had only felt before with Sara.

She had always known what constituted as a handsome man, but she had never, when growing up, looked at a man and felt a physical attraction. She had never had time for such nonsense; she had only trained and finely-tuned her skills until she became unmatchable in the League save for her father and only a few of his horseman who served during her life. And then, as she became older and blossomed into a fully-matured woman, her father had subtly begun to send her on missions with his horseman to, what she suspected, see if a worthy match for her could be found. But none of them had ever proved worthy to her at all - and her father, too, it seemed - and it hadn't been until Sara when she first experienced a relationship with someone, feeling emotions of brief love.

When Oliver had appeared before her, though, looking mostly physically the same as he did when she had first met him, she had felt her fondness and affection for him grow quite a bit, a seed of something that resembled… physical attraction invading her heart and mind as she understood how handsome he truly was. It truly distracted her because she shouldn't have been feeling those emotions; it was unbecoming.

Oliver had looked concerned and when she noticed his bemused expression, she had realized that she must have been staring at him for quite a while.

To distract herself from the emotions that had appeared, she had spoken.  _"How do you feel? How does it feel?"_

He had inhaled, shoulders stretching and rolling.  _"My head and face are cold now,"_  the words had worried her, but he had reassured her.  _"Don't worry, it's a good cold, not the… it's not the cold that I experience when I remember the past. It has nothing to do with a psychological - and physiological, too - response to my trauma, you needn't worry."_

" _I'm relieved to hear that, but why do your head and face feel cold, then?"_  She hadn't understood, especially when a brief, quiet laugh escaped his amused features.

" _It's simple: my body had become accustomed to all of the hair on my head and face, so when I shaved pretty much all of my beard and cut my hair, my body is… it's missing the extra layers of warmth that I had had during our travels."_

She had nodded because that did make sense,  _"Well, I'm sure that you could wear a hat if you're cold."_

" _I'll keep that in mind,"_

After, Nyssa had chosen to rest on the couch while Oliver went to one of the bedrooms, but when she had awoken before the sun had even peeked over the horizon, she had found Oliver asleep on the floor in front of the couch.

As if sensing that someone was watching him, his eyes had opened, staring directly up at her, speaking after several moments of eye contact.  _"I want to go to Lian Yu as soon as possible."_

" _You must contact your sister, then,"_ she had stood to her feet, watching as he nodded and pulled a phone, one that Sara had spoken about - a smartphone - and exited the room.

When they had visited Sara's father, Nyssa had begun to wonder how Oliver had gathered the courage to confront Mr. Lance. Even though she herself was Ra's Al Ghul's daughter, it had been incredibly difficult to maintain eye contact with the man's heartbroken eyes, and she had pulled out Merlyn's head to keep herself from beginning to weep.

After they had left Mr. Lance's apartment, she and Oliver had arrived at his lair in a relatively short time span. She had already decided that she was going to wrap herself in the shadows and wait for Oliver outside of the building, but when she had suggested it, to her shock, he had vehemently refused, almost begging her to accompany him, desperation shining in his eyes, tugging at something inside Nyssa.

So, she had entered the lair with Oliver, placing the head of Merlyn lovingly on the table at Oliver's behest -  _"The sight of Malcolm's head will aid me in drawing my conclusions far more than any words will. Their initial reactions to it are critical if they ever want to know and understand the true endgame."_

Nyssa had nodded her head at his words, realizing that Oliver was correct.  _"You're quite cunning. Now, your team is going to arrive soon. Since you want me nearby with you, where do you want me to be?"_

Oliver had sighed, turning to her, eyes filled with disorder.  _"You had said that you didn't want the team to know about your involvement in all of this, so I will respect your wish. And honestly, your presence would probably make it harder on them."_

" _But what about you?"_ She had dared to ask.  _"I already know that this will be hard on you, and you're who matters, not them. If my place is at your side, nobody will stop me from being there."_

A look of almost awe had crossed his features for a moment before he composed himself.  _"You are incredible, Nyssa, but at least for now, your place will be in the rafters above, watching to make sure that everything remains neutral."_

Her eyes had narrowed,  _"You think that something will happen, don't you?"_

" _They will ask questions and if I'm honest, which I will always try to be with you, I don't know if I'm equipped to answer them. I have no idea what could happen if I begin to have… flashbacks. The feeling of intense cold could return and…"_

" _And you might end up harming them accidentally,"_ she had finished, considering his words.  _"So I'm a deterrent, then? I'm to keep the peace?"_

Oliver had looked displeased by her word choice,  _"You're who I trust, not a deterrent, Nyssa. Frankly, I don't know if they'll agree with my choices or even like the man who I've become since they had last seen me. We've been separated for a long time, and many things have happened that have… changed things."_

" _Then they're fools,"_ she had declared, the notion fanning flames of fury in her heart.  _"If they can't accept you, no matter what has happened, then they shouldn't be in this type of life where death is all-too-common."_

" _Be that as it may, this is something that I need to do, if only to test myself about my flashbacks and PTSD."_  That had ended the conversation and only minutes later, Nyssa had ascended to the rafters, observing Oliver as he had stared at the 'Arrow' uniform.

Then, after several more minutes, the team had entered, mistakenly believing that Merlyn had been waiting for them, revealing unintentionally that they had been working with Malcolm Merlyn, something that most greatly aggravated Nyssa.

When Mr. Diggle had first glimpsed the head, she had found it curious that he had tried to protect the others from the sight, and had wondered at Laurel Lance's words, Sara's elder sister. And she had watched with a critical eye as Oliver had revealed himself to everyone, unsurprised by their reactions. They had all been understandably shocked, staring at Oliver as if he had been a mere phantom brought to life by their combined yearning for him to be alive.

Nyssa had begun to relax when Oliver greeted Mr. Diggle, the young man named Roy, and Sara's sister all amicably, true emotions entering his tone. Then, when Felicity had thrown herself at Oliver's legs, clutching at them like a… lover, a dark flush of fury had swept through her mind.

It had taken several moments to calm down from the unexpected and inconceivable rage, and when she finally did, dread curdled in her stomach, warning her. Oliver had tensed, face craned away from everyone, staring at something. Her eyes had followed his direction and horror hadn't even begun to describe what she felt.

She had recognized the sword immediately, how could she not? It was stained with dried blood all the way to the hilt, and images of her father plunging that blade through Oliver's chest had assaulted her mind. She had remained frozen for several seconds, the images only dispersing at the sound of Sara's sister's voice:  _"Felicity! GET AWAY FROM HIM!"_

Now, just after watching Oliver's fingers began to clench and curl into powerful fists, a terrible omen, she knew that she must enter the fray, especially when Felicity, who seemed to realize that, indeed, something was wrong, sprang away from Oliver's frozen, animalistic rage-engulfed body, Mr. Diggle pulling her to safety.

She didn't waste another second and fell from the rafters, landing between the group and Oliver, ignoring their shocked gasps and choked screams. Instead, she focused on Mr. Diggle, who had pointed his gun at her immediately. "If you wish to converse with your friend again, you will let me approach him. He's lost in memories, reliving moments that are scarring both mentally and physically, terrible ones that you could scarcely even imagine."

The young man named Roy's face was carved with anxiety and worry, but his words were crisp. "And how do any of us know that you wish to help him? You could have been sent by Ra's Al Ghul to finish the job! You're that bastard's daughter!"

Nyssa risked a glance at Oliver and saw that his entire body was now shaking, shivering and she didn't know what he was capable of at the moment, but she suspected that it would be reminiscent of when he had first awoken after the resurrection: overpowering both she and Sarab at once in a terrifying display of feral savagery.

She dropped her bow and sword without a second thought to show them that she was more concerned with helping Oliver than she was about potentially being wounded or even killed. "Frankly, you don't, but none of you can help him through this; you don't understand."

"Let us try, then!" Felicity cried out, eyes wide with many warring emotions, features white. "We can help him - and we will!"

Snarls began to echo as Oliver slowly began to approach the blood-stained blade, steps like a toddler learning to walk, unsteady and drunk-like, and one of his hands gripped the spot where the sword had torn through his body tightly.

Nyssa felt something that resembled panic erupt inside her. "I must aid him, and if it be my destiny to die helping him, then so be it." She then turned her back on a potential group of enemies and disregarded all of the League's teachings about never turning your back on an enemy.

Oliver was more important and she wasn't going to be denied; if Mr. Diggle shot her, not even death would stop her before she helped him. She had helped him ever since the duel against her father and she refused to stop now. He was her friend, hers alone; he was… hers, so the responsibility fell to her and no one else.

Thankfully, though, no bullets tore into her armor and flesh, but she knew that, as she continued to step closer and closer towards Oliver, Mr. Diggle's gun was trained on her skull.

When she was right behind Oliver, she could hear his erratic breathing, the adrenaline surging through his body, causing all types of havoc as he experienced flashbacks of his death. Nyssa slowly raised her hand up towards his head, praying that it would still work, and gently brushed her fingers across his now-clean-shaven neck, applying soothing pressure with her fingers, ignoring the moisture of Oliver's sweat coating her fingers.

Dismay threatened to overwhelm her when he stiffened even further, if that was even possible, and she prepared for her death via a mighty blow or bullet, but then Oliver shuddered out a slow breath. A wave of relief surged through her and she sighed aloud, leaning her forehead against his broad shoulder, relieved that it had worked. She continued her ministrations, mindful that Oliver was still staring at the accursed blade.

"You're okay, you're okay," she whispered against his shoulder, hoping that his team couldn't hear her words, wishing that they weren't there to witness such an - she was displeased to admit the truth - intimate moment as she calmed Oliver down, brought him out of his memories. Slowly, she stepped around him, leaving her fingers on his neck, and stared up at him, ignoring the hand that desperately clawed at his scar where the blade had once maimed. "You triumphed over death," she said quietly and earnestly in Russian, not wanting his team to hear what she was going to say. "It wasn't just soultaker and the Lazarus Pit water that brought you back, it was also you yourself. You're stronger than you know, remember? You said those words to me, and now I say them to you; you seem to like them."

Oliver's hazed eyes connected with hers, his Russian words a relief to hear. "Thank you," his hand left his chest slowly and abruptly, he wavered on his feet, swaying side-to-side haphazardly and Nyssa immediately whirled to his team, who were all staring at them in a curious mixture of wonder, disbelief, shock, and in Felicity's case, horror.

"Give me that chair, now!" She demanded in English. "He needs it!"

Mr. Diggle sprang into action and pulled the chair to where Oliver had braced a shaking arm against the 'Arrow' uniform display case. "Here you go, man, do whatever you need to. We only had that sword there as a reminder of…"

"Thanks, John," the whispered words echoed through the lair and Oliver collapsed into the chair, looking weary and rattled. He then glanced at her after several moments, his eyes suddenly dark and furious. "I want that fucking thing to be engulfed in fire and the flames may only be snuffed out when nothing remains of the blade." It was as close to a command as she had ever been given by him.

Nyssa nodded her head and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, trailing her fingers back to his neck, feeling pride when Oliver seemed to unconsciously nestle into her touch, breathing softly and slowly, calming down.

"What the hell was that?" Sara's sister demanded, eyes shining with worry, great confusion, and fear.

She sighed and looked towards the group, keeping her fingers on Oliver's neck, something that she noticed seemed to incense Felicity. "As I already stated: he was in the throes of a flashback to very painful memories."

"What did you do to him?" Felicity stepped forward, arms crossed. "Did you… you did this to him?"

Oliver stiffened and slowly, achingly turned his head to face the group. "She did nothing except help me during my most dire need. Ra's Al Ghul did… he did this to me, not Nyssa, never Nyssa."

The young man named Roy looked incredibly morose, mournful even. "What happened to you, Oliver? What the fuck is going on?"

When Nyssa realized that Oliver wasn't going to answer, she did. "He battled my father on the peak of a mountain- "

Mr. Diggle swallowed, "Merlyn had notified us, when he gave us that bloodied sword as evidence, that Oliver had been kicked off the mountain, falling into a ravine. Was that true?"

"Yes, it was," she responded bluntly, glancing at Oliver's unmoved expression. "I and another were ordered by my father to find Oliver's body, but when we did, we found that he was still miraculously alive." Nyssa lied, knowing that it would be much easier if the team didn't know the truth. "Sarab, the Shadow who my father had sent with me, apparently knew Oliver from years before when he had been in China, and- "

"You were in China?" Felicity gasped out, "You never told us that!"

Oliver's eyes closed and Nyssa answered instead. "He had been blackmailed into working for the organization known as A.R.G.U.S. while he was in China, working for the man who would later become Sarab, and both of them answered only to Amanda Waller." She noticed that Mr. Diggle's eyes suddenly shone with comprehension. "So, Sarab and I both decided to help nurse Oliver back to health and now, he has returned."

"Why does he speak in a whisper?" Roy asked, "And what happened to Merlyn? Was that… you? Him?"

"Oliver's throat was brutally injured from a deadly strike by my father and he is lucky to even be able to speak at all," she declared, not failing to notice that Felicity's lips quivered. "And as for Malcolm Merlyn- "

Oliver's eyes crackled with fury, mimicking unholy flames as his wrath became tangible. "Malcolm faced his reckoning and I delivered him there while Nyssa finished the job."

Sara's sister frowned in seeming disappointment, "You murdered him?"

Nyssa's fingers didn't touch any skin as Oliver abruptly stood from the chair, all signs of weariness gone. "Yes, I did, and he deserved it. I find your sudden disparity quite astounding. When you had first learned of Sara's death, you were ready to murder the wrong man, and it was only me who stopped you. What's changed? Why…" he tilted his head suddenly, scanning Laurel's face. "You know, don't you? You know about Thea's involvement in Sara's death?"

Laurel's face flashed, "Yes, I do, and I know that you lied to my face countless times about Sara's death."

"Then you should surely understand why I killed Malcolm, or delivered him to Nyssa so that she could finish it." He replied quietly, not at all apologetic about lying to Laurel. "He sentenced me to death itself and turned my little sister into a killer by manipulating her through drugs to murder Sara - and he killed my best friend, his own son. His death was a long time coming."

Mr. Diggle looked just as sad as Roy Harper did. "And the video?"

"Nyssa and I arrived late last night back to the city, and we revealed the truth to Thea. She knows of her role in Sara's death and after much emotional anguish, she condemned Malcolm to my wrath. I destroyed his phone, which held the video, and tossed the broken pieces into a fire."

Before any of the others could speak, Nyssa did. "My father will undoubtedly come for Oliver. I am helping him but none of my father's Shadows must know that."

"Shadow?" Roy echoed, "What the hell is a shadow?"

"A Shadow is a warrior of the League of Assassins," she clarified. "My father's reach is vast and he has eyes and ears everywhere."

"Then he must know about Damien Darhk!" Felicity abruptly exclaimed, "We can get help, then!"

Nyssa stared at the woman dangerously, "And where did you ever hear that name?"

"Daniel Brickwell broke out of prison, along with many other criminals of rapists and murderers, and has, with the help of Darhk, who we learned of from Merlyn, created an army, a H.I.V.E. that will pillage Starling City like the Khans themselves." Mr. Diggle dragged his hand down his face, "Last night, Roy and I and Merlyn confronted Darhk, but it was useless; he has the power to control one's own body by- "

"By using magic," she finished. "Ra's Al Ghul's most bitter enemy appears in the city only when Oliver was gone." She urgently looked at him, "This is worse than I had thought. We must leave for Lian Yu immediately with Thea if we wish to complete the endgame and defeat Damien Darhk."

"Wait, what?" Laurel stepped forward, "What do you mean leave? You just got here - and after we had lost you!"

Oliver closed his eyes, "I need to help Thea train because while she did learn from Malcolm, she is ill-equipped to deal with any Shadow, especially one who wouldn't hold back."

Tears welled in Felicity's eyes, "But what about the city? We need you, and I ne- …the city needs you!" Before she could stop the action, Nyssa felt her eyes narrow dangerously at Felicity, recognizing that, somehow, the woman desired Oliver, and the notion and thought filled her with a type of fury that she had never before experienced, and one that she didn't truly want to understand.

"From what I've seen, the city didn't become razed during my… absence," he looked pointedly at Roy. "I know that you doubt yourself, that you all do, and I'll let you in on a little secret: I have doubted myself, too, all of the time."

"What?" Roy whispered, looking astonished - and everyone else, save Mr. Diggle, did, as well.

Oliver slowly sat back down in the chair, and for whatever reason, Nyssa restarted her fingers' ministrations again, and when she noticed the loathing glow in Felicity's eyes, she felt like she was claiming her… territory.

He nodded his head, "Yes, I have doubted myself a lot, and it wasn't until after my… fall when I stopped doubting myself - and it was Nyssa who helped with that, among many other things." Her head turned to face him and she felt pleasure from his words, and she listened as he continued. "Doubting yourself is normal; in fact, I'd be worried if you didn't doubt yourself. The doubt evolves from fear, though, does it not? Fear is a dutiful ally in this line of work; it keeps the senses sharp, the instincts on high alert, and most importantly, it keeps you alive."

"But why are you still prepared to leave right after we found out that you're alive?" Laurel asked quietly, sorrow etched into her features.

"Because I have faith in you all," he said simply, and Nyssa briefly wondered if he was lying. "When you doubt yourself, it can wreak havoc because doubt is not the emotion that helps us, fear is what helps us - and anger, too, only when tempered by the mind. So, based on what I've heard, it sounds like you all had gotten your asses kicked, yes?" When everyone didn't correct him, he exhaled slowly. "All right, I'm going to be blunt as to my reasoning for departure: because of my survival, Ra's Al Ghul will come for me - and Thea, too. Now, I have Nyssa as my friend, and she has informed me of how I need to prepare my sister - and myself in some ways, as well. Because of this, we will soon be leaving for Lian Yu, a place that will hopefully aid Thea in healing and making her stronger to fend off the Shadows sent by the Demon's Head."

Mr. Diggle responded after several seconds, "We can understand that after overcoming all of the shock that we're experiencing, but it doesn't take away from the fact that you're the only one who can save Starling City from H.I.V.E., and the fact that none of us can do what you do, can be the 'Arrow' that you are."

"I know, but I'll figure it out, okay? Look, that is doubt speaking right there, John - and for all of you. When you doubt yourself, remember how far that you've come, remember all of the hardships, all of the battles that you have overcome, all of the victories you've felt, and all of the fears that you vanquished." Oliver stared directly at Roy, "When I first met you, Roy, you were an arrogant punk who thought that he had everything figured out, who declared that he was strong when in reality, I could have snapped you like a twig - and I'll admit that I was tempted to when I found out you were dating my little sister." He waved a hand, shaking his head. "But look how far you've come, Roy, you- "

"Can still get snapped like a twig by you," Roy guessed.

"That's not what I meant. Look how far you've come mentally - and that's what matters. This world that you all have entered tests the mind far more than it ever does the body. The toughest fights that you will ever face are the ones in your mind, and you realize that now, don't you? You understand your limitations, your capacity to help the city, and that's all that I ever wanted from you. I never wanted you, nor any of you, to be me, okay? I wanted you all to achieve your potential and become who you were meant to be."

Felicity swallowed, "But why can't you just stay? We can help you and Thea against the League."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Nyssa asked with a severe frown, "The League of Assassins is the most deadly fighting force in the history of the world. There's a saying that my father taught me, and I'll share it with you: Shadows are the warriors elite, born to compete, and they never retreat. They are feared by the dead, they're always ahead, and are fed by their prey's dread. Except for Mr. Diggle, from what I hear, none of you have ever even been in a life-or-death battle where you could easily be killed- "

"The Mirakuru-enhanced army was pretty life-or-death, and so was Damien Darhk." Roy Harper interrupted.

"It was nothing compared to what the League is capable of, and because I was there, along with Sara and a small death squad of Shadows, you didn't die, Mr. Harper. You were protected from the brunt of Slade Wilson's siege. Damien Darhk never meant you harm because if he had, you would have died as simply as that. The League is specifically trained for that type of warfare, the life-or-death. We are weapon experts beyond any in the world, so skilled it makes government agencies like A.R.G.U.S. look like mere toddlers, so ruthless that those who know of our existence pay weekly homage to Ra's Al Ghul, sending riches and treasures to him in the hope of warding off his potential wrath. Every Shadow is multilingual, can hide in plain sight, assassinate, and if the Demon's Head commands it, desecrate countries and empires in a single night."

Oliver's sigh was quiet but audible. "Now do you understand why I must go?"

"I don't understand how you could be so selfish!" Felicity cried out, eyes alive with chaotic emotions. "You're just going to leave when we need you most, when I need you most? How could you do this?"

Nyssa stilled her tongue from replying as she watched Oliver stare at Felicity, the atmosphere becoming cold. "Everything that I've done has been to protect Thea, and that is exactly what I'm doing NOW!" His voice rose and he flinched back, scrunching his features together as he rubbed his throat, ignoring the undoubted pain. The group looked on in shock, in sadness, and in Roy Harper and Mr. Diggle, realization. "You are all part of the team, but she's different, okay?"

Mr. Diggle nodded, "She's your sister."

"Yes, she is, and she's all who I have left from… Thea is the last family member who I have, and that matters more than protecting this city right now. Ra's Al Ghul is much more dangerous than Damien Darhk and Daniel Brickwell, more than Malcolm and Slade put together. He is who I'm focused on until I can figure out how to deal with everything."

Laurel approached Oliver, eyes connecting with Nyssa's for a brief moment. "I think that I understand, I really do. I would do the same for Sara."

"Thank you," his relief was tangible. "While I won't be here to immediately help with Darhk and Brickwell, that doesn't mean there isn't any way that you can't achieve a subtle victory over them. You said that you encountered Darhk last night, so what do you know? Tell me."

Roy answered, "Okay. Um, well, he can use magic - which I'm still grasping - and control one's own body, he's a skilled fighter because he was once considered for the position of Ra's Al Ghul, he and Brick have a new base of operations, he wants Ra's Al Ghul to know of his newfound power, and his final plan incorporates the death of evil."

Nyssa narrowed her eyes, "Damien Darhk is notorious for his flagrant words of self-grandeur. I would bet that most of the words you heard were lies."

"But we do know that their base of operations changed, though." Mr. Diggle pointed out, "We saw it with our own eyes; their old one was abandoned."

Oliver stood to his feet and Nyssa's fingers left his neck. "Then that is the victory you can achieve. While I'm gone, you can discover the base of operations. You are all smart, so I know that you can do it. There needn't be any physical confrontations except for low-level criminals." He stood there for a moment, uncertain before he straightened, all emotion vanishing from his features in a flash. "I will leave for Lian Yu in several hours and I must get Thea, pack, and make arrangements. This is where we part ways, but not forever. You'll see me again, I promise…" then, before anyone could react or reply to his words, he turned around and walked the steps, the atmosphere stunned.

Nyssa smiled apologetically, a kind emotion pulling at her heart at the sight of their heartbroken faces. "You must give him time. He has been through a lot more than you know, and this whole ordeal might be harder on him than it is on you all."

"I understand, Nyssa," Mr. Diggle inhaled roughly, bracing himself on the table, and she respected him. "Just look out for him, all right? I can see that you've been doing that already, but please continue to do it. I feel - and I think that I can speak for all of us - a lot safer knowing that you're by his side, watching his back, and helping him." He turned to look at her and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking sad. "We're all euphoric that Oliver's alive, but it's blatantly obvious that he's changed, a big change that we know nothing of, nor understand. He's no longer the Oliver who we knew, that's obvious to me. Our paths diverged over four months ago and right now, I don't know if they'll ever reconnect, but even if they don't, I'm just happy to know that he's alive."

"It might not have seemed like it, but he was glad to see you all, too." Nyssa inclined her head, "I will continue to aid him, you needn't worry, Mr. Diggle." When she saw the look on Felicity and Laurel's faces, she decided to be honest. "We have both helped each other, actually. He's a good man, the best who I've met, and I intend to help him in whatever ways that I can. He deserves nothing less. But remember, you must keep my involvement a secret beyond any other."

XxXxXxXxXxX

**That's all for this one, everyone. I'm sorry for the wait, but… life happens, plus this one was hard to write.**

****Oliver and Nyssa visit Quentin Lance to reveal the truth about Sara's death. Okay, in Canon, I always thought that Laurel's decision to keep her sister's death from her father made sense, but Oliver's, at least to me, didn't, especially since his mother had been murdered in front of him the previous season. I think that Oliver would have recognized that keeping such information from someone who worked with him was ridiculous and could only end up biting him in the ass. He had learned his lesson from Shado's death and everything that happened between him and Slade because he kept the truth from his friend, his brother-in-arms.**

**Quentin, understandably, is grief-stricken and broken, but his respect for Oliver increases because Oliver came to him and told him the truth. Also, it was asinine that Quentin Lance never knew that Oliver was the 'Arrow' before Ra's Al Ghul told him in the show. Yes, I know that Oliver was captured in Season 1 and that Lance knew it was him, but Oliver had purposefully staged the whole thing to force the Starling City Police Department, particularly Quentin Lance, to doubt their claim that Oliver was the 'Arrow' or Hood. Quentin knew about Sara's lifestyle and he knew about the 'Arrow's' relationship and protection of her. When Sara shows up with Oliver for dinner or whatever it was, that should have been a beacon declaring that Oliver Queen was the 'Arrow'. How Quentin didn't figure it out then is beyond me, so to keep him as intelligent as the TV show showed him to be, he figured out Oliver's identity, but Sara kept him from trying to confront Oliver, to arrest him, convincing him that Oliver was doing good. Eventually, Quentin realizes that and fully supports Oliver as the 'Arrow'.**

****The team reunites with Oliver and it doesn't go as planned. When** _**Arrow** _ **really, to me, declined in quality was after the Ra's Al Ghul duel - although there were some scenes in the early Season 3 that were ridiculous - and it shows when Oliver returns to the team in Canon. For me, his lack of reaction towards the sword that killed him, the blade that was stained with his life's blood, that tore through his chest before he was kicked off of a mountain, was incredibly disappointing. I mean, come on! Seeing that sword in broad daylight, realizing that his team had purposefully kept it, would cause psychological responses which would then lead to aggressive behavior and fight-or-flight mode being activated, but then the show began to focus on the Olicity bullshit. To me, the fact that Oliver kept that sword - and while I can see why he did, it was still incredibly unrealistic for that kind of traumatic response; it would be like a torture victim keeping the chains that held them in place - to then battle Ra's Al Ghul at the end of Season 3 was when I began to realize that** _**Arrow** _ **had declined severely in quality.**

**I really wanted to add the psychological, traumatic response when he glimpsed the blade that killed him so I wrote it out and liked what appeared. Nyssa, of course, is the only one who understands what is happening and is the only one who knows how to calm him down, and probably the only one who even could because he fully trusts her. (Sadly, he doesn't fully trust the team.) That wasn't intended as a romantic-like element. It is the perspective of someone who trusts one another, who understands what is happening from a traumatic response and knows what to do in such a situation. If it seemed too cliche as a romantic-like situation, that's not what it meant, I swear! The team is, of course, shocked by everything and I had a difficult time writing them out because, if I'm going to be honest, I didn't really know how to write for characters who see their friend after believing him dead for months. I hope that it seemed realistic and well-written.**

**As for Oliver's actions, particularly wanting the head of Malcolm Merlyn displayed, we must remember that he is a different person as a result of everything that has happened. He fully understands the 'mess' that he has been put into by Malcolm, and he knows that Ra's Al Ghul will come for him to secure him as his heir, but he doesn't know about his team. Let's remember that Felicity and Laurel are mostly bright-eyed and idealistic about certain subjects and have no combat ability whatsoever. (This is Laurel in Season 3, remember?) Roy is just a kid who, while having faced some dark stuff, is wholly unprepared for Ra's Al Ghul and the potential war that could break out. Diggle is a soldier and definitely handled it the best. (Yes, he does think that Malcolm is more deadly than Slade and I think that, too. Slade wasn't trained by the League of Assassins and he wasn't Ra's Al Ghul's own horseman. If they were to duke it out, Malcolm would win hands-down. The only way Slade would win was if he had the Mirakuru in his veins, but he since he doesn't now, Malcolm would kill him if he was still alive. The is just based on all of the evidence shown in the show and Canon. I know that in the DC comics the opposite outcome would be the reality.) The sight of a decapitated head is child's play compared to many other things that could see and Oliver used it as a measuring device to see if they were ready. I know that it's cruel, but Oliver at this point is no longer wearing the 'kiddy-shoes' anymore. His death changed him and he has realized many much-needed truths. He can't afford to be soft on his team.**

**I think that's everything, but if you have questions, just ask. I'd be happy to answer unless it spoils something. Please leave a review to tell me what you thought about it. It helps with future writing!**

_**Stay Safe  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


	9. Chapter 8

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I really appreciate it! It makes my day every time I see a new one.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** _**Arrow** _ **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** _**Arrow** _ **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

The Island looked the same, but as he stepped onto the beach, Oliver suddenly realized how much he had changed since his failed attempt at exile after Malcolm's Undertaking. He felt overwhelmed gazing at the beach he once ran across so many times, the place that was his true home, and his breath shuddered gently as he exhaled, a weight leaving his shoulders that he hadn't been aware of.

The breeze swept over him and Lian Yu seemed to welcome him back, eager to embrace its lost son. The feelings engulfed him and Oliver closed his eyes, able to lose himself as a serenity calmed him, and everything seemed okay, at least just for now. He could hear it, hear the Island's welcoming whispers, the chanting:  _"Son of Purgatory, Son of Purgatory."_

Here, he was able to be free, to be his true self; he was no longer the 'Arrow', the Oliver Queen whom Starling City saw, the prophesied heir of Ra's Al Ghul, or the way that his team had seen him, or at least the way that they used to see him before his death. He was now just Oliver and it was liberating to feel the weight of all of his masks fall away from his psyche like tattered cloth, if only for a while.

"You weren't kidding, were you?" Thea asked softly and Oliver's eyes snapped open, glancing at his younger sister's raw face, the realization carved into the depths of her flesh. "You were on this deserted place for years? By yourself?"

"No, I wasn't by myself," he whispered, ignoring her shock and hurt features. "There is much about me, Thea, that you don't know, that you have never known. I was on Lian Yu for only three of my five years away. The other two years, I was in China and Russia, respectively. Make no mistake, though, this was my home, and even now, it still feels like home, my true home."

Thea looked devastated by his words, but he felt unmoved. He loved his sister and he would always protect her, but as of right now, he didn't respect her at all, not even a little. So much time had passed since his death, and subsequent rebirth, that he had thought a lot, and because of Thea, because she trusted Malcolm, because she left with him, Oliver was condemned to Ra's Al Ghul's blade, his death, and all of the pain, agony, and hardships that it had brought.

His sister swallowed, seeming to read his thoughts. "But you were he- here alone, right? Was that true?"

"No, that was a lie, too," he whispered without reproach. "You know of Slade Wilson- "

"That butcher," his sister interrupted with a snarl, her face suddenly contorting to look like Malcolm's and because he felt ungodly rage at the sight, he turned, and when he did, he stared directly at the A.R.G.U.S. secret prison.

He felt time freeze before he continued. "He was on the Island with me and we were as brothers once, a true sibling bond that was greater than any I've shared with anyone else." Oliver ignored Thea's sharp inhale of breath, "Now Slade is being held here on Lian Yu. I imprisoned him on Purgatory after his siege on Starling City."

"I didn't know that." Nyssa's voice caused him to look back towards her and he noticed that Thea's face had become chalk white, staring up at him with tear-welled eyes. "I knew that he was still alive, but I hadn't known that you… put him on Lian Yu."

Oliver felt guilty for some reason. "I'm sorry, but it never seemed important, and I don't like to talk about… Slade for obvious reasons. But, yes, he is here but- "

Thea's fists clenched and then she pointed her finger at him, the anger on her face sudden and demanding, doing nothing to soothe Oliver's own sudden rage. "Where is he? Where is 'here,' Ollie?"

"You don't need to worry," he stated flatly. "You won't encounter him, I swear- "

His sister laughed hysterically, interrupting him. "As if your oaths are trustworthy! You could be lying for all that I know!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nyssa step forward, but he waved her off, staring at Thea with cold eyes. "And Malcolm's oath and promises were trustworthy? You trusted him, but you won't trust me. I find that… unsettling."

Thea paled, "Ollie…"

"Not another word," he breezed past her, grabbing his bag, failing to not look at the prison once more. "Let's go. The sooner we can get to the plane, the sooner we can eat."

"Plane?" Nyssa called out, "What plane?"

XxXxXxXxXxX

Ever since they had arrived on Lian Yu, Nyssa had watched Oliver intently, observing him, and what she saw was a paradox. He seemed freer than she had ever seen him, but a boundary had also been unconsciously erected by him, shielding herself and Thea from deciphering his true emotions.

Now, as they all sat silently in the plane, the atmosphere was tense, on the brink of explosive, and she didn't know what to do. Oliver, from her observations, seemed to have reverted back or evolved into someone else, and she didn't know Thea, wasn't really comfortable with Oliver's sister who had murdered Sara, regardless if she was under the influence of Votura.

"Tomorrow, we will train," Oliver whispered abruptly, his eyes riveted on the flames of the fire. "We will begin the process of molding Thea into a worthy combatant." Nyssa saw Thea flinch minutely at Oliver's callous-sounding words, at the way he didn't even address her.

She nodded her head slowly, gathering her thoughts, choosing the correct words. "And what about Starling City? Your team did bring some hair-raising questions to our attention. They were right: an army is needed to defeat Damien Darhk's H.I.V.E."

"What's H.I.V.E.?" Thea asked quietly, hesitantly. "Who are they?"

"Behind only my father, Damien Darhk is the second most dangerous man in the world. He is an arcane-practitioner and deadly warrior. H.I.V.E. is the name of his organization that he created to try to rival the League, although it never will. Damien Darhk has his sights set on Starling City and without an army to stop him, one of the League's caliber, then your home will become death's playground."

Thea looked horrified, "Ollie, you can't let that happen!"

"Don't you think that I know that?" The whispered words snapped through the air, on the verge of a snarl. "I need to think, okay? For anyone to fight one of Darhk's minions, they need to be skilled and experienced, so that rules out everyone on my team save for John."

"What about Roy?" Thea shocking questioned, her words bold. "I know that he works with you."

Oliver didn't look surprised by her words. "Experience matters, Thea, especially against warriors of H.I.V.E.'s quality. Roy is young, and his words to me in the lair expressed his inexperience quite thoroughly. He cannot handle a League-like warrior, not yet, maybe not ever."

"When facing H.I.V.E., all whom you'll have by your side to battle them are Nyssa, Mr. Diggle, and me. That's it? You need more, Ollie! Who else could help you, help us?" Thea suddenly stood up and began to pace. "What about the League, Nyssa? Couldn't you- "

Nyssa interrupted. "My father certainly knows by now that Oliver is alive, but he doesn't know that it was I who saved him, who has been his greatest ally in his quest back to civilization, to Starling City, to you. I cannot request the League's might to aid Starling City, at least not yet. He cannot know of my treachery, otherwise, I will be killed, or at the very least exiled like… Talia."

"Talia?"

"My older sister," she answered quietly, looking at Oliver. "Did you contact her?"

"Yes, I did, but I don't know when she will arrive, if she will at all. She sounded most hesitant."

She nodded her head sadly, "That's understandable, I suppose."

"Who else?" Thea suddenly demanded, waving her arms wildly, looking panicked. "I don't want Starling City to be destroyed! Ollie, surely you know of others who could help."

"Perhaps you would know since you were quite friendly with Malcolm." Oliver's eyes were dark and Nyssa feared that the two siblings would attack each other. "You must know of all of his contacts, right? He had to have known skilled warriors who were heartless bastards, just like himself. Surely you got along with them, too."

"That isn't fair!"

"Isn't it?" Nyssa watched as Oliver looked away, staring out the entrance of the plane, his features suddenly unreadable, even to her. "I need to think," he stood up. "I'll be back shortly, okay? I just… I need to clear my head." Similar to how he behaved in the lair to his team, he walked out without a second glance at either of them.

After overcoming her shock at his actions, she began to understand, but when she noticed that Thea looked on the verge of tears, she knew that it was probably best that Oliver had left. He was ill-equipped to deal with his sister, at least with his current mindset.

"He hates me," Thea whispered when her brother was gone, and she fell heavily to her knees, tears welling in her Malcolm Merlyn-inherited eyes. "I can feel it, you know? I just know, I do. It's hard to breathe."

Nyssa stared at the girl not unkindly. "He has never hated you and he never will, Thea. He's your brother and he loves you."

"No, he doesn't," she choked out and the tears flowed down her flushed, and yet pale, cheeks. "Don't you see? Look at how he's acted! He should hate me! I killed him, my own brother. He thinks that he and that- that motherfucker, Slade Wilson had a better sibling bond than he and I do." No other words passed the girl's lips as her face fell into her hands and she wept bitterly.

Staring at Thea's sob-wracked form in compassion, Nyssa scooted closer. "You made a mistake, a terrible one, yes, but I guarantee that you won't ever make such a mistake again. Oliver is angry with you, rightly so, spewing lies to wound you as you had wounded him. If you ever want him to trust you again, you must do the work to mend the relationship. Your actions are what broke out. I see that you love your brother dearly and it wounds you greatly to be on the receiving end of his rage and… coldness."

"It's my fault," the girl whispered, finally pulling her tear-stained face out of her hands. "I began all of this."

"Probably," she agreed, "but I already know that my father's eyes were watching Oliver before your father- "

"He's not my father!"

"- before Malcolm Merlyn killed Sara."

Thea froze at her words and she began to shake, horror seeped into her fearful flesh. "Why are you treating me this way? I killed Sara, don't you know that? IT WAS ME!" The girl's eyes were impossibly wide, rabid with the beginnings of insanity. "You loved her, Malcolm told me, I know you did. I killed her! I killed Sara, my friend, your… lover." Thea sunk inward, the life fleeing from her body until all that was left was a hollowed-out husk of a young woman, her eyes dim with grief.

Nyssa was silent for several moments, choosing her words with care, knowing that the young woman was hysterical. "The blame for Sara's death has never been on your hands, never. It lies at Malcolm Merlyn's feet, not yours." Staring down at the lifeless-looking girl, she felt her hatred for the slaughtered Al Sa-Her increase exponentially. "Look at me, Thea, look at me." The girl slowly, painstakingly raised her dead gaze. "What happened, everything with Sara, is not your fault."

"I know that," she croaked out.

"No, you clearly don't, Thea," she replied sternly. "It's not your fault, okay? The crime of Sara's murder isn't on your head, and it never will be. I have forgiven you for shooting the arrows that ended Sara's existence. Malcolm Merlyn is behind it, not you." Thea's face rippled and Nyssa slowly continued. "You had no control over anything that happened that night because that control was stolen from you. You would have never killed Sara otherwise, we both know this. It's. Not. Your. Fault. Thea."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The water was chilling, and although it brought forth a lot of unpleasant and pain-filled memories, it was exactly what he needed. The wind prickled his wet head, reminding him of all of the hair that he had cut off, and quickly, he sunk his face down in the water again, hoping to plunge out… the thoughts, the memories.

In spite of his best efforts, when he resurfaced, they came anyway. With them echoing in his ears, Oliver slowly turned to his right and glanced at the A.R.G.U.S. prison where Slade was being held, and suddenly, in his mind's eye, the image of his mother being murdered before him flickered ominously, causing his rage to increase even more.

Why had he allowed Slade to live? Had he been that asinine, that foolishly stupid?

Feeling his fury compound into a deadly hatred, he walked out of the sea onto the beach, the breeze chilling his nude body. He dressed himself, but left behind the shirt, wanting Slade to see, to see it all, glimpse the trials that had forged him into a warrior beyond anything that Slade could ever be.

He stalked forward towards the prison, a haze beginning to cloud his mind, but he didn't care. When they had all first left Starling City, he had promised himself that he wouldn't speak with Slade, that he would leave his mother's murderer to rot, but all of those promises now fell on his own deaf ears.

He opened the hatch door and descended the ladder calmly, the gruesome scar on his forearm from Ra's Al Ghul a beacon to his angry eyes. Pushing past the door, the flickering light of the area stalled him, the lone occupant inside a sight that stopped him from advancing.

In the corner of the cell, Slade's one eye darted up to meet him, the orb showcasing surprise and then relief, a sudden happiness. "Hey, kid. I'm glad that you came back."

"You shouldn't be," he hissed out, his rage inflating in his resurrected heart.

Slowly, his mother's murderer stood to his feet, one eye widening when he glimpsed the chest. "You've been busy, I see," he said after a moment, a fascination echoing in his words.

Oliver stepped closer to the cell, his fury lashing through his mind when Slade didn't back away. "And you haven't been, but today, it will be the last time."

Slade didn't react. "You're finally going to kill me, aren't you?" His once-brother nodded his head slowly. "I had always wondered when you would… What's wrong with your voice, kid?"

"It's been broken," he whispered, suddenly observing the calm man, something prickling through his mind. "Why aren't you…?"

A laugh escaped Slade's lips. "Insane? Bellowing about butchering you and your family? The answer is simple: I've finally awoken, kid, from that horrible nightmare." Slade's single eye ran over his face, and the regret and sadness displayed in its depths began to slightly cool Oliver's fury. "The Mirakuru… that sickness wore off a long time ago."

"None of that changes what you did."

"I know, kid, I'm well aware. I have to live with that regret and pain for the rest of my life. I deserve this cell, to live out my days locked away for the monster whom I became." Slade released a heavy sigh. "I see them in my sleep, all of the lives that I unjustly took, among them your mother- "

"You don't get to speak of her!" Oliver hissed, the pain in his throat a fuel for his own rage as he brought his hand up to massage his neck, trying to soothe the agony there.

Slade looked sad, whether at the sight of his maimed voice or the murder of his mother, Oliver didn't know. "You're correct, of course, I have no right to speak of her. …Besides to kill me, why are you here, kid? Why did you come back to the Island? I'm not arrogant enough anymore to think that I was your lone reason for traveling halfway across the world back to Purgatory. What is it?"

"You don't get to do that, either."

"Do what, kid?"

"Act like everything's okay. Nothing is okay, and you cannot expect me to… to trust you."

"You shouldn't trust me, kid. I don't deserve it."

"Good."

Slade sat down on his cot, keeping his single eye connected to Oliver's two eyes. After a tense silence, Slade tilted his head to the side, raising a finger to point at Oliver's chest. "You've changed, and so much in so little time. When you left me here, which I deserve, you were that… hero. Now, though, I can sense that you're a warrior who sees no problem in killing. What happened?"

"Why the hell should I regale you with what's been happening to me?"

"I'm curious, kid, I can't help it. The Mirakuru poisoned my mind, robbing me of my basic sanity, and now that I have my mind again, I wish that things were different, that things hadn't spiraled out of control… all of those years ago."

Memories of a past life flashed through Oliver's mind and he found himself nodding his head, his rage cooling until at it resembled was a single spark at the edge of his conscious. "I wish things were different, too, more than you know." Oliver closed his eyes, sighing heavily and with that, a truth escaped past his lips. "I should have told you about Shado at the beginning."

"Yes, you should have, but there is much more fault on my side, kid. We both made mistakes, especially me, that we can never recover from."

"I was scared and grief-stricken," he whispered honestly. "Things were good once, but when fucking Ivo arrived, that was the beginning of the end of those good times." When Oliver looked back at Slade, he was stunned by the tears slowly traveling down his left cheek. "You're crying. I didn't know that you could cry."

Slade chuckled without amusement, wiping away the tears. "I've had much to cry over lately, kid."

"Sara's dead," he said softly, watching as Slade tensed. "She was murdered and she's dead for certain. There will be no more resurrections for her. I failed to save her, to even know about any plan to kill her."

"That's interesting. Do you know who murdered her?"

"Thea did. Malcolm drugged her with Votura."

"The 'Slave Drug,' if I remember correctly." Slade's eye closed in understanding. "And I thought that I was a monster. Merlyn's an interesting man; his heart must be frozen over to do that to his own daughter."

"He's dead, as well."

"You killed him?"

"I delivered his bloody and beaten body to the one who did."

"And your sister?"

Oliver paused for a moment and slowly sat down, the metal bars separating them. "I don't know. Because it was she who killed Sara, she would have been targeted for killing a member of the League of Assassins."

"The League of Assassins?" Slade's back straightened, his one eye becoming sharper. "Sara was- …she was, what do the legends call them, a Shadow? That's where and how she learned to fight?"

"You know the legends?"

"Who doesn't in our world, kid? You know what they say about the immortal Ra's Al Ghul: 'There has always been a Ra's Al Ghul and there always will be a Ra's Al Ghul. As eternal as the stars in the sky, Ra's Al Ghul bears witness to all. His eyes and ears expand across the world and there is no place where he can't find you.'"

"Sara was a Shadow for the League and because she was killed by Thea, I had to protect her. Malcolm forced my hand; he had a video damning Thea for the murder."

Slade leaned forward, hands sprawled over his thighs. "Are you saying what I think you are? You… fought Ra's Al Ghul?"

His instincts prickled against his mind and Oliver jumped to his feet, whirling around all in one smooth motion, prepared for anyone. Suddenly an A.R.G.U.S. guard entered, and the man blinked before tensing, eyes widening. "HEY! What the hell's going on here?" The guard pointed his gun at him and Oliver felt Kapushion roar and thrash violently in the back of his mind. "And who the hell are you? Is that a Bratva tattoo on your chest?"

"Waller didn't tell you?" Oliver whispered incredulously, furrowing his eyebrows. Just as he had intended, the guard's assault rifle lowered slightly at the name of A.R.G.U.S.' Director. "I'm here on a mission given to me by Waller herself to recruit Deathstroke. The tattoo was for an undercover mission sanctioned by her. Are you going to let me do my job, now?"

The guard warily looked past him to where Slade kept quiet. "I have received no such word."

"That's not my problem. I have a job to do and Waller expects nothing less. Deathstroke is wanted for Task Force X."

"What the hell is that?"

"You don't have the clearance to know."

"The hell I don't! My post is to know everything that goes on in this prison. If Deathstroke is wanted for something, I need to know!"

"I can't tell you what Task Force X is, but if you feel the need to observe and watch, go right ahead. You can even stand next to me."

The guard nodded his head slowly. "That would be acceptable, I suppose. Damn, you're scarred more than anyone whom I've ever seen. What happened to you? Are you part of one of those elite death squads I've heard myths of?"

"You could say that. Now I don't have all day. Get over here." Oliver turned back around, glimpsing Slade's subtly amused face. When he heard the tell-tale sign of the rifle being decocked, he pivoted back around and lashed out before the guard could even react. Smashing his fist into the man's temple, the guard fell bonelessly to the ground, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He turned back around towards Slade. "Where was I?"

"Ra's Al Ghul," his old friend prodded slowly. "You fought him?"

Oliver suddenly chuckled softly, shaking his head, sitting back down in front of the cell, the guard lying unconscious near the wall. "I didn't fight him, Slade, he toyed around with me like the ultimate predator. I was mere fodder compared to him. He's… beyond anyone whom I've ever seen or heard of. All of the legends that we've heard, he more than surpassed them."

"Yet you're standing here before me."

"He killed me," his eyes closed and the feeling of intense cold began to encompass him. He brushed his hand over the scar on his chest. "Right here was where his blade tore through my body, dimming my life before he kicked me off of a mountain. He's the one who did this to my throat, a blinding jab that I barely saw - it was so fast." Slowly opening his lids, he stared at Slade's shocked face, feeling a warm emotion at the sight. "Make no mistake, I was as dead as Sara, body broken beyond thought, but I was revived and healed by Ra's Al Ghul's daughter."

Emotions flashed over Slade's face. "I'm… having trouble understanding this, kid. Did Ra's Al Ghul's daughter have the Mirakuru? Is that why you've changed into one who kills? It corrupted you as it did me?"

"No, I kill because I recognize how foolish I was before. Nyssa didn't- "

"Ra's Al Ghul's daughter is named Nyssa?"

"She didn't have the Mirakuru, no one should. That power is gone from this world as far as I know. She healed my body using water from the beyond-comparison Lazarus Pit."

"Lazarus Pit?" Slade echoed. "Lazarus as in the Bible?"

"It's what permits Ra's Al Ghul to live for centuries beyond his time. Nyssa healed my body with some of its water."

"You seem to know a lot about Ra's Al Ghul and the League of Assassins. Are you now allies with this Nyssa?"

"She's my friend, the only one who I fully trust in this world."

"That's good, kid. I'm glad that you don't have the Mirakuru." Slade slouched back, his face weary, lined with memories of a past life. "It truly was a nightmare. I told you that the Mirakuru isn't what made me hate you."

"I remember."

"I don't even know if that's true, kid, I just don't. My rage is gone, flushed out, and all I feel now is hollow, like a heavy husk."

"My rage burns brighter than ever," he admitted softly. "Ever since coming back, it's been there, always on the edge of my consciousness. Before, the anger had always been there, too, but this is different, something darker, more potent and feral in nature."

Slade looked at him. "I'd imagine that being resurrected from death itself would change a person. Trauma, perhaps?"

"Probably."

"I wanted to kill myself so many times." Oliver looked at Slade, surprised by his admission. "A.R.G.U.S.' minions kept me alive. I would run into the wall head-first." Slade tilted his head and Oliver blinked at the sight of sutures visible in spots on his head, not hidden by his hair. "I tried several times… but I didn't deserve it, such a death. I deserve to suffer."

"I never imagined that that would be an option for you," he whispered honestly. "You've always thought too much of yourself for such a route of death. You never seemed to believe in suicide."

"I would prefer different language, kid."

"Sorry. I mean that."

"That may have been true before, but I don't think much of myself now, kid. Everything I did, it was barbaric and monstrous. I physically and emotionally tortured you, slaughtered innocents, murdered your mother right in front of you and your little sister, and I tried to desecrate an entire city, your home."

"Starling City isn't my true home, I've discovered. It's here on Lian Yu."

"I didn't deserve to die for my crimes, kid, even though I really wanted to die, I yearned for it with the lust of a horny teenager. I held on, though, convinced that I needed to suffer. I have always held hope that you would return to the Island and… at least see me." Slade sighed wearily, his chest inflating for a moment beneath his light gray garbs. "Now you're here to kill me."

"I was."

Slade stared at him, stunned. "You're not going to? You stomped in here- "

"I remember exactly what I did when I came down here: I came to kill the monster who murdered my mother. But that's not you, not anymore. You're not who murdered my mother, Slade. That Mirakuru-infected beast was who butchered her."

"Maybe so, kid," Slade looked defeated, "but I have the memory of gripping that damned sword, of plunging it through her chest, through her very heart."

"But you weren't in true control, were you? Your mind was… clouded by the Mirakuru. Do you know why I don't blame Thea for Sara's death? Because it wasn't her who did it; she was manipulated and her free will and choice were taken from her by Malcolm. The same could be said for you, but instead of Malcolm, it was the Mirakuru that infected you."

Slade's single eye closed slowly. "Kid, I appreciate it, but- "

Oliver suddenly felt a brief laugh escape his lips. "My, you truly covet death, don't you? I never thought that I'd see it. You are purposefully trying to make it easier for me to kill you. That would have worked a long time ago, probably even when I stormed down here, but not now."

"You were always clever, kid. I'm glad to see that death didn't take that from you."

"I'm not glad to see you become this shell before. You made a mistake, terrible ones, but guess who started the entire thing? It was me who injected you with the Mirakuru."

"You were trying to save my life."

"But while I saved it, you turned into a butchering beast. I then stabbed an arrow through your fucking eye, shoving it into your brain, killing you." Slade twitched and Oliver leaned forward, intending to yank the thread even further. "Shado was murdered by Ivo before you even had a chance to see if things could have turned differently, if she could have loved you back. Your sons hate you and you're now only a master of nothing; your existence has become redundant. You're only alive now because you couldn't be a possible threat without the Mirakuru; you're nothing without it, not even a blemish in my eyes." Oliver forced a small smirk to cross his features, trying to invoke a bigger reaction from Slade. "You are simply a mistake of the past, nothing more, an unknown that is too pathetic to waste thought on - as evidenced by your sons."

"That's enough," his old friend's fists clenched and his single eye burned. "I know what you're doing."

"I'm only restating what you have, but I'm going to the true depths of it. I'm agreeing with you, aren't I? This is what you want, isn't it? You want me to condemn you as I had done previously."

"As I said: that's enough."

"I agree," he slowly stood to his feet and punched in the numbers to the cell that he had memorized long ago. The audible release of the lock echoed in the stale air and Oliver backed away as the cell door slowly creaked open, watching as Slade didn't move at all. "I can give you your freedom and with it, your redemption. You and your sons can be reconciled. It's time for you to turn over a new leaf, to redeem yourself."

"A.R.G.U.S. would disagree, kid."

"Fuck A.R.G.U.S., Slade. I don't care what Waller wants or thinks any longer. I answer to no one."

Slade looked up at him, his one eye showing vague flashes of amusement. "Good for you, kid, that's good." His old friend wearily straightened to his feet and walked towards the open door. His fingers wrapped around the cell bars and with a yank, slammed the cell door back shut.

"So, that's it, is it?" Oliver asked unblinkingly. "You really have condemned yourself to die?"

"What else is there for me, kid? As you said, my sons detest me, I committed atrocious crimes, and the name 'Slade Wilson' is spat upon by many. I deserve to suffer."

"The punishment that you've received from the Mirakuru is more than anything that I or anyone else could do." Oliver opened the cell door once more, feeling a determination gnawing at his resurrected heart; for all of the crimes that Slade had committed, for all of the former animosity between them, there still remained a kinship that he felt for his old friend, a friendship that, if he was being honest, he ached for. "I can give you a second chance, Slade. Just help me."

"Why are you doing this, kid?" Slade shook his head, the sutures visible once more. "I don't deserve it."

"Probably not, but I still vividly remember the bond we once shared. I yearn for that again, and I can see in your eye that you do, too. We can never go back to those days, but perhaps we can build something new from the foundations of once was."

"I think that you're forgetting that I killed your mother. For that alone, you should kill me, Mirakuru or no."

"That's not your decision to make, Slade, it's mine."

"And your sister? What would Thea think of this?"

"I don't care what she thinks right now; she has no say in it."

"You're angry with her?"

"She trusted Malcolm over me. Because of what she did, I was slaughtered by Ra's Al Ghul and Sara was killed."

"I thought that you don't blame your sister for Sara's death."

"I don't, but I do blame her for trusting Malcolm, which then led to Sara's death."

"That's a paradox, kid, but what about your team? The blonde with glasses? Laurel Lance? They would- "

"They're out of the picture for now."

Slade closed his one eye for several moments. "What do you need help with?"

"Starling City is under attack by Damien Darhk." When no recognition showed on Slade's face, he continued. "He is the commander of H.I.V.E." Slade's one eye widened slightly. "So you've heard of them?"

"Kid, H.I.V.E. is no joke. I once came across them after the Island when I was… the monster. Their soldiers were good and the only reason why I survived was that of the Mirakuru. Otherwise, I would be their lab rat. They were fascinated by my strength."

"I brought Thea here to the Island to train her, to shape her into someone who could evenly match one of Darhk's minions. She brought it to my attention that I need more skilled warriors if I want to save Starling City. My team can't contend with any of H.I.V.E.'s elite soldiers who were trained by Darhk, not even John."

"What about the boy? The one whom I infected with the Mirakuru? Roy Harper, was it?"

"He wouldn't stand a chance. He's just a kid, Slade. Thea is his age, but she has more potential. I've seen it."

"You want me to aid in the fight against H.I.V.E. to save the city that I once tried so desperately to destroy?"

Oliver locked his eyes onto Slade's single once. "Yes, I do. I need your help. We can put the past behind us; you can begin to work towards redemption for your evil deeds. All that you must do is help and obey me."

"It'll be you and me, kid, just like old times."

XxXxXxXxXxX

She was unable to recognize the face that looked back at her in the mirror; the tear-stained and swollen eyes, or the pale cheeks and raw nose that were visible thanks to the light of the bathroom gave her no comfort at all. She was supposed to be better than that, supposed to be stronger, but now all she felt was devastation, a hollowness in her heart that enlarged with each thought of Oliver.

Felicity wanted to scream and bellow at the heavens, screeching at the unfairness of it all, demanding answers.

Why? Why now, only when she had finally begun to accept that Oliver had been killed by Ra's Al Ghul, did her love suddenly appear back in her life like a specter? Why hadn't he returned sooner? Why did he have to act so different and cold, aloof beyond anything that she had seen? Why did he look like he could have killed all of them during some moments? Why did Nyssa Al Ghul have to be with him? Why did Oliver show that woman a level of trust that Felicity had never imagined that Oliver would ever give to anyone? Why did he have to leave again immediately to go to Lian Yu, Thea be damned? Why couldn't he have stayed?

Oh, how she hated everything that had happened!

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong, Felicity?" Ray peaked his head into the bathroom, features forlorn. "I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know what happened."

"You want to know what happened?" Felicity demanded hysterically, spinning around to face him. "Everything's ruined! Nothing was supposed to happen after Slade Wilson's siege except minor criminals, not the immortal Ra's Al Ghul! I was supposed to have more time to… to break down the barriers; it was all planned out in my head. Instead, it seems that she beat me to it."

Ray blinked, peering at her with a frown. "You need to translate that, Felicity. I'm sorry, but the only thing that I understood out of all that was… Slade Wilson. What does that monster have to do with anything?"

"You'll despise me if I say more," she whispered, turning away from him. "I don't want you to hate me. I can't bear the thought."

"I trust you," his arms slowly wrapped around her, his lips gently pressing against her neck. "You've helped me create the ATOM suit, and it's almost finished. You make me feel happy; you've brought me joy that I've honestly never felt, not even with Anna. I love- "

"It's Oliver," she interrupted, fearing the emotion behind his vow, afraid that he would take it back if he knew the truth.

Ray sighed, "What about him? You told me that he died. Have you now decided to reveal that information to the public?"

"He's alive," her eyes welled with thick tears at the memory of him appearing in the lair beneath Verdant. "He just showed up out of the blue - after over four months. How… could he do that to me, to all of us? How dare he just waltz back after so long?"

"And you're upset because you thought that he was dead." Ray concluded, "I don't know Oliver Queen very well, hardly at all; he and I never saw eye-to-eye on certain matters. I'll say that he seems like a… good man, though. I'm certain that he didn't make you think that he was dead on purpose, that he didn't mean to show up 'out of the blue,' Felicity."

"Maybe, but that's not all."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I thought he died, I…" her mouth was dry, parched beyond relief and she swallowed thickly, prepared for everything to end. "I loved him. I desired him so much."

Ray didn't say a word, but his arms left her body and she felt cold. She didn't dare look at him through the mirror, too afraid to see the furious and hurt-filled expression on his face.

"I was wondering when you would tell me."

Felicity looked up and she only saw a trusting face; there was no fury or pain. "What? You knew?"

He looked offended by her words. "Of course, I knew, Felicity. I'm not a fool. I'm not one of those geniuses who doesn't understand human emotions. It was clear as day that you coveted him; you always spoke about him."

"Yet you still pursued me," she whispered, wondering what his answer would be.

"Yes. I did want you for myself because I think that you're amazing, but I never actively tried to ruin something between you and Oliver. It was you who came to me and started this, not me." Ray tilted his head, his brilliant eyes holding her in place. "I understand now, why you started this. You were in… hysterics that night, looking quite like you do now. You had just learned that Oliver had died, didn't you? You had believed him gone, so you came to me… in hopes that I would soothe your pain." A flash of anger and realization crossed his face and Felicity bit her lip. "Your aim was to use me, wasn't it? You didn't come to me because you loved me as I do you. You came to me because I was convenient."

"Ray…" she trailed off, not knowing what to say to keep her actions from speaking for her.

"Now you just learned that Oliver is alive, that he 'showed up out of the blue.' Of course, now you are wanting to go to him instead of me. You choose him, don't you? How could I have been so blind? After all, he's the handsome playboy who lost his company, who has had his cock plunged through countless women's most sacred parts. You're hoping that he'll take you away from the dumpster fire that Starling City has become since Daniel Brickwell's take-over of the Glades." Ray's eyes were wounded, wounding Felicity even worse. "Damn you, I should have seen it.

She felt more tears spill down her cheeks and she desperately reached towards Ray, relieved when he didn't pull away. "It was that way at first, yes, but… I've grown frighteningly fond of you." The memory of Oliver's animalistic savagery floated in her mind's eye, the way how Nyssa Al Ghul was the only one who could calm him, was the only one whom he had trusted. "Oliver's been gone for months, and I've only recently learned that he was alive. During that time, you've eased my grief more than any of the others have."

"Others?"

She ignored her slip and his inquiry. "You are an amazing man, one who is honorable and intelligent; you're kind and understanding, more than I deserve."

"This is your way of 'dumping me,' isn't it?" Ray pulled back, looking angry and hurt. "You'd rather be with him."

Felicity finally admitted what she had been thinking ever since Oliver had returned, after the shock had worn off. "I once thought so, yes, but Oliver has changed; he's different."

"Did he change, or have you merely been blind to his true nature?" Ray dared, eyes flat. "Oliver Queen is a jackass, Felicity. Forget what I said to you earlier - it was a lie. I've seen it and I've always known - and I have wished for so long that you would see it, too. And now you do, don't you? That's what you saw, wasn't it?"

"I do wonder if I saw his true face," she whispered, thinking of the Oliver whom she had always known, whom she had loved. "I always sensed that there was a barrier blocking me from glimpsing his true self, and that's why I was trying to break down the barrier, why I had it all planned out. But I think that when he returned, I saw it, and I didn't like whom I saw; that Oliver isn't the one whom I… thought whom I loved."

"Thought?" Ray's face suddenly filled with hope. "What are you saying?"

She gazed at him honestly, "I can't help but wonder if you're right, that I was blinded by him, by his incredible appearance and muscles, by a fantasy from my younger self to have the hottest guy."

"And were you? Were you blinded?"

"Yes," she whispered in realization, feeling the shock sweep through her. "I… had him built up in my mind, only seeing… what I wanted to see. Oh my… I loved a specter of my own imagination; it was all a fallacy that I constructed." The words were painful, wounding her more than any physical blow, but something shifted inside because of her admittance; she felt liberated. Felicity accepted Ray's offered hands and she marveled at how he gripped hers tenderly. "I don't know if I love you, Ray. I'm not even sure I fully know what love feels like, but I am fond of you. I like you a lot. I'm sorry that this whole thing began because of a lie, but if you're willing, I'm willing to give this a shot, to see what happens."

"Nothing would make me happier," she was pulled into Ray's chest, and Felicity closed her eyes, wondering how it felt so nice to just simply be held. All she knew was that Oliver never would have simply held her as Ray was currently.

She felt at peace, now. No more did she covet a man who was only a fantasy of her imagination. She couldn't keep living delusions, and with Ray, she might just be able to accomplish that.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"What did you want to talk about, Dad?" He watched as his daughter looked at him in bemusement, and it took a lot of effort to keep his temper in check -  _the grief was so strong!_

Quentin stared at her critically, ignoring her sudden unease. "How long, Laurel?"

"What?"

"How long were you going to keep it from me?"

"Dad- what? Keep what from you?" Laurel crossed her arms over her chest, "What are you talking about?"

"Damn you, I'm talking about Sara!" He stood to his feet, taking in his daughter's sudden pale features. "Oliver and the woman named 'Nyssa' who Sara was with visited me the other morning, with Malcolm Merlyn's head no less, and they, specifically Oliver shared the truth with me. Sara was murdered by that piece of shit months ago and you knew about, choosing to lie to me, to keep it from me."

His daughter froze in place, horror shining in her distraught eyes. "I made that decision, Dad. He had no right to tell you!"

"He had every right!" Quentin snapped, the grief fueling his anger. "You, on the other hand, had no right to keep that from me!"

Tears filled Laurel's eyes and she wavered on her feet. "I was worried about you. Your health- "

"That's how you justify it, Laurel? That's a meek excuse full of self-serving words."

"No, it's not!" His daughter finally snapped back, her own anger on full display - and Quentin welcomed it. "I understand that you're distraught and furious- "

"That's not even half of it."

"- but you don't get to blame me. I did what I thought was best. I made a decision at that time, and maybe it wasn't the best one or correct one, but I felt that I didn't have a choice." Laurel sank to her knees, tears finally falling. "It was me who found her, you know? One minute, we're saying 'goodbye' to each other, and then the next, she falls from the rooftop and lands right in front of me as I'm walking away, three arrows plunged through into chest."

Quentin chokes on his own tears and stumbles towards her, pulling her into his arms. "My baby girl," he sobbed, the full force of his grief unleashed, ripping out of the barriers that he had stuffed it into.

They both wept together and Laurel's fingers dug into his back like claws. "Daddy, I'm- I'm so so- sorry. I cou- couldn't save he- her."

"I cou-couldn't either," he gasped out. "A father shou- should know, inherently, but I- …I ne- never did. Now, sh- she's gone," he began to shake, "my litt-little canary."

Neither could speak again and they just held each other, grieving and mourning as father and daughter.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"It's not your fault, Johnny. You can't keep beating yourself up." Lyla's words were tender and soft, whispered lovingly and he took strength from it, staring at the empty bottle of liquor in front of him. "Don't drown it. You know what will happen if you do; you're smarter than this, better than this."

"I don't know if I can be better or stronger right now," he whispered back, closing his eyes. "If only I had looked myself, instead of trusting Merlyn. Maybe I could have found Oliver and brought him back. Instead, the opposite happens; just when a semblance of normalcy had begun to return, it's all flipped upside down."

"Aren't you happy that Oliver's alive?"

"Absolutely, but you didn't see him, Lyla." Diggle felt chills crawl up his spine at the memory of Oliver drunkenly staggering towards the blood-stained blade, clawing hysterically at his chest, no longer looking calm and collected; the true glimpses of what was beneath the facade had been seen and it scared him. "He's changed beyond what I can describe. Fundamentally, I think him being on the brink of death, something that's never truly happened to him before, awakened something inside him, a darkness and power and strength that I've never seen. Before Nyssa somehow calmed him down, he looked like he could have killed us all without a blink of an eyelid."

"And Nyssa is Ra's Al Ghul's daughter?"

"Yes. According to both Nyssa and Oliver's own words, she is the only reason why he is still alive. She healed him and nursed him back to health, stayed with him all this time, helping him when no one else did."

"He trusts her?"

Diggle laughed, poorly disguising his pain. "Oh, he trusts her more than all of us. I saw it. He trusts the daughter of the man who maimed him, who tamed death itself and unleashed its might on Oliver. I don't know how, but they trust each other."

"You know what they say, don't you, Johnny?" Lyla's hands began to massage his shoulders. "When you hit your lowest point, you become susceptible to the greatest change. Oliver teetered between life and death, it sounds like. That must be the lowest he's ever been. It doesn't surprise me that he's been changed from it. Nyssa was there and so it's obvious that he latched onto her; the fact that she seems to trust him does surprise me."

"How so?"

"This is Ra's Al Ghul's daughter, Johnny. She risked her entire life to save the life of a man who slighted the, what did you call him?"

"The Demon's Head," he supplied softly.

"Yes, the Demon's Head. She must have been truly desperate, and since she, from everything that you've told me, trusts him, she must have severed ties with her father." Lyla kissed his neck softly and Diggle sighed gently. "Oliver will be okay, Johnny. He's a fighter, a warrior; he is just traumatized right now. '

"I know, but it's different if you actually saw him, Lyla. He… I didn't recognize him, who that man who stared back at me was after he saw that damn sword. It was like the mask was lifted and I was scared of his true face."

"What are you going to do?"

"None of us are going after Darhk or Brickwell again. Instead, we're going to try to locate where their base is while Oliver, Nyssa, and Thea are on Lian Yu."

"And they went there to train, correct?"

"To train Thea," he corrected. "Apparently, no one is supposed to survive a duel with Ra's Al Ghul. Because Oliver did, his entire family is under threat. He is training his sister to survive against the coming Shadows."

"Shadows, Johnny?"

"Sorry, warriors of the League of Assassins. Nyssa provided that information."

Lyla's hands stopped their ministrations. "Waller would be thrilled to have Nyssa provide information to her. With Nyssa working against her father, A.R.G.U.S. could probably completely destroy the League of Assassins."

"Don't count on it," he muttered.

"What do you mean? It sounds like Nyssa is no longer loyal to her father."

"Yes, but it doesn't mean that she would willingly aid in the decimation of everything she's ever known. She was raised in the League, bred by Ra's Al Ghul to be a warrior; it wouldn't surprise me if she only left the League because of her father, not because she was against the beliefs of the League."

"Maybe Oliver's presence in her life will help her see that the League must be destroyed."

"Or maybe her presence in Oliver's life will augment the dark power that death gave him. Maybe she's the reason why he's changed so fundamentally."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Nyssa opened her eyes when she felt the change in the air. She adjusted to the darkness of night, glimpsing Thea snuggled against one of the crates, soft snores escaping the girl's lips. For several moments, all was still and Nyssa looked around, hand wrapped around her sword's handle. Nothing was out of the ordinary, so when she realized that the fire was beginning to wane, Nyssa quickly added more wood to it, honing her ears to hear anything that might be a threat, that may signal that Oliver had returned.

She poked the wood, the crackling sparks popping in the night, but it did nothing to erase her unease, her feeling of being watched. She peaked at Thea once again, observing the girl's breathing; it was even and hadn't changed at all.

Standing to her feet, she silently grabbed her sword and just as she was about to exit the plane to ease her mind, a large shadow suddenly appeared in the entrance.

"Oliver?" She whispered, prepared to eviscerate the shadow if it wasn't him. After a moment, the shadow stepped into the light of the fire and Nyssa lowered her blade. "You were gone a while. Is everything all right? Are you all right?"

"Sorry," his voice was even softer than her own, and she saw his eyes land on Thea's slumbering form. "I needed to get away."

"She's guilt-ridden and bordering on what I know of depression. She's aware of what she's done, Oliver." Nyssa stepped closer to him, "I know that you're angry, and you have more than every right to be- "

"I don't know what to do. I'm furious with her to the point where sometimes I can't even look at her, but she's my sister. She made a mistake, an enormous and egregious one…"

"Yes. Among them was playing a major role in Sara's death, but that wasn't her fault."

"Not that. Her unforgivable sin was trusting him," he hissed, clasping his hands together until they became whiter than snow. "I'm more than aware that Sara's death isn't really Thea's fault, but because of Malcolm, because she trusted him, it led to everything that's happened since, including Sara's death."

"You're contradicting yourself," she pointed out softly and led him out of the plane, the refreshing air of night engulfing both of them. Now they could have privacy in case Thea awakened. "Either you blame her for Sara's death, or you don't. Which is it?"

Oliver stared down at her and she met his stare evenly, nonplussed by his darkening eyes and scowl. "I blame her for my death, for trusting Malcolm, and because she trusted him, he was able to drug Thea with Votura so that she would be able to kill Sara. Because she trusted Malcolm, he was able to gain the opportunity to murder Sara by using Thea, which led to me battling your father on that mountain. Everything began because of her stupid choice."

"You're not accepting the situation," she sighed in realization. "You're obsessed with Thea's mistake."

"Wouldn't you be in my position?"

"Yes, but we can't change the past. I would if it were possible, but time isn't fair; it's cruel beyond measure. This is our shared situation, which includes Thea. I know that you're furious with her, but I also know that you love her. Can't you eventually forgive her? She's your sister."

Oliver's scowl finally subsided, retreating until it was replaced by memories. "Yeah, she is, but that's what makes it so hard. If it were anyone else, I would have killed them."

"I know, but she's worth it, isn't she? She's drowning with regret and sorrow, Oliver. After you left, she broke down; she was hysterical and I feared that she might attempt something."

Just as she expected, concern swept through his features. "You mean… suicide?"

"Yes. According to her, you hate her."

"That's insane," his eyebrows furrowed. "Why the hell would she say that?"

Nyssa raised her own brow. "It might be because ever since we killed Merlyn, you've treated her with hostility and thinly-veiled cruelty. You've been acting as cold as my father. I can see why he wants you as his heir."

"Don't say that," he snapped, glaring at her. "I'll admit that I've been short with her- "

"No, you haven't even given her a chance." Nyssa refused to back down from his sudden contorted features. "You've allowed your emotions to cloud your judgment."

"My judgment is sound, Nyssa. I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"Trying to provoke a reaction out of me, hoping that if I do 'blow my fuse,' I'll treat Thea better."

"So you admit that you've treated her poorly?"

He stared at her for a moment before, in the blink of an eye, the fight suddenly seemed to vanish from him. "I don't know if I've ever felt so overwhelmed," his words echoed years of frustration and other trials. "It's all convoluted and I don't know what to do."

Nyssa felt her own frustration with him soften. "You won't be alone in this. You have me, you have your sister- "

She heard the crunching of leaves to her side and then a voice. "And if it means anything, you have me, kid."

Her eyes widened and the voice from a year ago echoed in her mind, of a man who had been consumed by the Mirakuru:  _"You must have quite a bit of faith in this cure if you've come alone."_  In one smooth motion, she drew the knife from the small scabbard on her waistband and turned, connecting her eyes to a one-eyed man, a man who Oliver hardly ever spoke of.

"You!" She snarled, wondering how the man could have escaped, but right when she was about to dash forward to attack, Oliver gripped her arm, keeping her from moving.

"It's all right, he's with me."

The words floated in the crisp night air and Nyssa staggered, not sure if she had heard him correctly. "What did you say?" She kept her eyes locked on the man, and when Oliver didn't take back his statement, she wasn't sure how she truly felt. "Him? That's where you went? That's how you cleared your head? By freeing Slade Wilson?"

Oliver's sigh was shockingly loud. "He's here to help us. We need him."

Nyssa stared at Slade Wilson, seeing the stark contrast between the man before her and the man who had been swallowed by the Mirakuru's power - just from the stances and posture, the vibe that wafted off him. The thick beard on his face matched the one that Oliver had previously before he had shaved, before they had visited his team, and it added a weight to his face, to his frame that showcased weariness and regret. His lone eye was shadowed with atrocities and blood, the realization that he had done all of those things.

She slowly sheathed her knife and turned to him, prepared for a sudden attack by Slade Wilson. "Do you trust him? The Mirakuru hasn't returned to him?"

Oliver stared past her towards Slade Wilson, memories that she never knew filtering through his eyes. "I do. I trust him."

She looked at Slade Wilson, astonished at the overwhelmed look on the man's face. "Kid, I will never betray you. You have my word."

"We'll see if it has any worth," she said and looked back at Oliver. "How long has he been there?"

"The entire time. I told him to wait until I was certain that he wouldn't be killed."

"Yet he still revealed himself and I might have killed him."

"I was curious." Slade Wilson didn't look apologetic, "I think him and I understand each other more than ever before."

"And your sister?" Nyssa prodded, "What about her? What will she think of this development?"

"He said that his sister doesn't have a say in it." Slade Wilson supplied and while she felt irritated by the words, she felt her lips twitch in amusement when Oliver glared at him.

"She will accept it," he whispered after a moment. "She's the one who gave me the idea."

Nyssa immediately understood what he meant. "I would bet all of the treasure that my father has amassed in his existence that he isn't whom she had meant."

"That's right," Slade Wilson suddenly said. "You're Ra's Al Ghul's daughter."

"How much did you tell him?" She asked in disbelief, wondering if Oliver was compromised by his emotions.

"Pretty much everything," he shrugged, looking unconcerned. "The entire thing between us started because of lies. I figured that if I wanted anything to be rebuilt between us, I shouldn't lie to him."

"That's sweet of you, kid."

Nyssa began to understand the dynamic between the two men. "Thea's already in a very delicate position. Don't you think that the appearance of her…" she glanced at Slade Wilson, "her mother's murderer might push her over the edge."

Oliver stiffened and he closed his eyes. "I have no idea. I think that it's your call. Apparently, according to you, I don't know how she feels."

"I think that she- "

"Ollie?"

Nyssa was unable to keep the dread from erupting inside her as she whirled around to see Thea step out of the entryway to the plane, staring at the three of them in confusion. Then, she saw the change, felt it as it happened; animal-like savagery, almost similar to Oliver's, clouded the air, buzzing against Nyssa's senses.

"Thea," Oliver took a step forward, holding out his hands, but it was useless.

All of the progress that Nyssa felt that she had made with Thea vanished in the girl's eyes; the orbs filled with vicious intent, rabid clutches of mania. The girl bolted towards them, her arms reaching outward like a child's attempt to scare someone, but there was definitely something scary about it. There was no control, no thought except to kill; it was as if something wild had replaced the girl.

To Nyssa's shock, Slade Wilson suddenly stepped away from them both, and Thea followed the change like a predator, effortlessly maneuvering her body towards the man. Oliver tensed beside her and when Nyssa moved to intercept Thea, he suddenly clamped his hand around on her shoulder.

"He's not going to defend himself," he sounded sad and relieved at the same time, apparently not going to stop the inevitable; it seemed that he wanted to see how things progressed.

She followed his unspoken request and did nothing but watch as Thea slammed into Slade Wilson's form, screeching unintelligible curses. The girl landed on his chest and then she began to smash her fists into the man's face. Blood spurt out of his nose but he just laid there, staring up at Thea, arms sprawled to his side. He didn't do anything, didn't attempt, as Oliver had said, to defend himself; he had ample opportunities to kill the raging Thea, but he didn't raise a finger.

"You killed her!" Thea reared upward for another punch, "Because of you, mom's gone!" The punch landed and Slade Wilson barely reacted. Then, in a rapid motion, Thea pulled out a gun from the back of her jeans - from where she had procured it, Nyssa had no idea - and pointed it directly at his skull. "I'm going to blow your head apart!"

"Thea," Oliver whispered gently and Nyssa was relieved that he wasn't acting as he had been previously. "Think about what you're doing."

"What? Putting down the rabid dog?" Thea's words tumbled out of her lips in hysterics. "He deserves it! He killed mom! You were there - you saw it!"

Oliver took a step forward, "If you do this, then there really is no coming back from it. It will be on you. Trust me, okay? The first man who I truly murdered in cold blood, I smashed his skull in with a rock, blood and brain matter spraying onto my face and clothes; it was a bloodlusted, vicious animal that took control just as what you're feeling. I know that it feels impossible, but put away the gun. Once you kill someone in cold blood, it becomes easier, so think about what you're doing. Be better than me, please. Just try to think."

"But I killed Sara in cold blood!" The words and emotions were raw, blistering with agony and guilt. "I'm already there!"

Nyssa flinched at the terrible sound Oliver made from his throat, as if he wanted to scream and roar towards the heavens but was unable to. "That wasn't your fault! It was Malcolm's, not yours, never yours. Listen to me right now," his voice lowered to something even gentler and it filled her with the hope that Thea would listen to her brother. "You are at fault for many things right now, but you are not responsible for Sara's death. You've never killed someone with full capacity for your actions, being in control of all of your faculties. You've only seen Sara's death in your dreams, but you hold no true memories of it, just repressed ones that are locked away. If you kill him, you will remember it for the rest of your days and you will begin down the path that Malcolm wanted for you. Don't do it and just think, please."

"I don't need to think about it!" Thea screeched, tears spilling down her cheeks, falling onto Slade Wilson's bearded, bloody, guilt-stricken, resigned features. "You hate me! I feel it!"

"I don't hate you, Thea." Nyssa didn't know what to do except watch the events play out before her. "I love you more than anyone else. You're my little sister. I know that I've been… distant with you since I came back, but my love for you has never changed. You can be better than this, better than me. You don't need to continue down the path that Malcolm steered you on. You're stronger than you know, Thea."

"I'm already a monster!"

"No, you're not," Slade Wilson suddenly said softly but his words were audible to everyone. Thea froze from her position, looking down at him with a tear-stained face, rage and mania still carved deep into her flesh. "I'm the monster, not you. You're the victim and Malcolm Merlyn was the monster, just like me. It's your choice if you want to kill me; you've earned the right to pull the trigger, but as your brother said, once you start down that path, it will forever be part of you." Nyssa watched Thea's finger quiver against the trigger of the gun. "I know it means nothing, but I'm sorry for what I did to you- "

"You're not sorry!" Thea smacked the butt of the gun against Slade Wilson's forehead, blood bursting through his skin, but he hardly reacted, only a clench of his jaw. "I'll kill you!" She pointed the gun back at his skull and the finger on the trigger steadied, and with anxious eyes, Nyssa watched as determination filtered through the hysteria, combining with it.

A hand suddenly harshly pulled up the back of her shirt and whipped the knife out of the scabbard in the blink of an eye. Instinctively, she whirled around, prepared to slay any who dared touch her, but all she saw was Oliver hurl the knife towards his sister as a silent, deadly arrow.

She couldn't believe her eyes! Had she just watched him kill his own sister? Had he decided to kill Slade Wilson himself to keep Thea's hands clean?

A scream of rage was unleashed from Thea's lips and Nyssa turned around, fearful of what she could see, but it wasn't as she had expected. There was no knife protruding from either Thea or Slade Wilson's bodies. Instead, her incredulous eyes noted that the knife had been thrown at the gun; it was wedged directly behind the pistol's trigger, keeping it from being pulled, locking it in place, prohibiting Slade Wilson's death.

"NO!" Thea's finger jabbed the trigger towards herself repeatedly, hysterically, tears spilling down her cheeks, but it wouldn't budge at all. "He must die!" Nyssa felt frozen watching the scene, watching as a once-strong girl finally broke down in sobs.

Oliver brushed by her and stepped towards Thea, lifting her off of Slade Wilson without a grunt of effort and pulled her into his chest, holding her, tossing the gun aside. She shook against him, thrashing wildly but Oliver simply moved his lips to her hair, whispering something that Nyssa couldn't hear.

She finally felt her mobility return to her and she stepped closer, picking up the gun, yanking the knife out of the trigger guard with a great heave of force; she returned it to the scabbard. Slade Wilson remained lying on the ground, blood spilling out of his split forehead and busted nose, dribbling past his lips, staining parts of his thick beard red. His eyes were rooted on Oliver and Thea, his eye glimmering with what looked like tears; sadness wafted off of him like a sickness and Nyssa wondered if this was the man whom Oliver had claimed to be brothers with.

"It's going to be okay," the permanent-whispered words reached her ears and she saw Thea finally stop fighting against Oliver. "You're going to be okay - and we will be, too. I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry for how I've treated you. I have demons that I must deal with, too. We can triumph over them together."

Thea's arms finally wrapped around her brother's broad back tightly, clawing at the skin desperately. "I'm sorry," she choked out, her words muffled against his chest, but they were audible to everyone. "Ollie, I'm so sorry."

Nyssa felt something change in Oliver at Thea's anguished words; there was no longer a tightness in his form. There was a shift inside him, she could see it as it happened, watching in fascination as Oliver shook for a moment; he looked on the verge of tears. "No matter what you've done, I love you. Mistakes by both of us have been made, but I forgive you - for everything." Thea's arms wavered around his back. "You're more important than my anger."

"Ollie," the girl gasped out, and Nyssa watched in relief as she squeezed her brother even tighter, the color of the flesh of her arms turning pale white from the pressure.

Looking at Slade Wilson as he slowly stood to his feet, keeping his distance from Oliver and Thea, Nyssa approached him silently.

"Are you and I going to be in conflict?" The words left her lips with hardly any volume, wishing to keep Oliver and Thea from being disturbed.

Slade Wilson's one eye stared at her. "I remember you. You were there that night in Starling City, when I… tried to desecrate the place."

"Yes, Sara asked for my help."

"For a long time, I hated her," the words didn't surprise her. Sara had spoken of Slade Wilson's loathing of her after the Mirakuru-enhanced army was defeated. "I blamed her and the kid for Shado's death, and the only thing that they were guilty of was that they didn't tell me how it happened. That's it, but the Mirakuru fanned and fueled my hatred and unholy anger. It distorted everything." Slade Wilson's lips twisted into a small, sad smile. "She came a long way from that woman who I first met. I assume that's thanks to you. Oliver told me that she had been a Shadow for your father."

"It was I who saved her from starving on Lian Yu after that freighter exploded. I found her on the shore."

"But now she's truly dead," she narrowed her eyes at his words, allowing him to continue. "I had believed her dead before but she surprised me. I'll never forget when she waltzed down those stairs, eyes daring me. There will be no more resurrections, will there?"

Her eyes glanced at Oliver and Thea, who had moved back into the plane, Oliver hugging his sister into his chest as they walked, aiding her bone-weary form.

She raised her voice slightly. "No, there won't be."

"Yet you used that Lazarus Pit water on Oliver when he was killed by your father. Why didn't you do it for Sara? You obviously cared for her."

"Oliver did tell you everything," she murmured. "Sara wouldn't want to be brought back, and I wasn't selfish enough to ignore her wishes."

"But you were selfish for Oliver?" Slade Wilson challenged and she respected his boldness.

"Yes, because at the time, I didn't care for him. I barely knew him."

"Why use the water, then? It sounds priceless."

"It is priceless. When he fought my father, there came a moment when I thought that he would actually slay him; he showcased a power that no other has ever shown before: he wounded the Demon's Head and brought him to his knees. I healed Oliver because I wanted to be free from my father. He's the only one in the world who could kill him, and when I remembered the prophecies, it all made sense."

Slade Wilson's one eye blinked. "Prophecies? Those things are real?"

"So Oliver didn't tell you everything." Nyssa smiled coyly, without emotion, not willing to trust him. The man was lucky that she had been willing to even converse; the only reason she was giving a chance was that of Oliver. "I won't tell them to you unless Oliver wants me to."

"Now my interest is piqued."

"It should be. They're ominous-sounding," she subtly reached behind her towards the knife, prepared. "Oliver trusts you because of the memory of the man before the Mirakuru, but I hold no such weakness. My memory of you is riddled with the monster. I will kill you if you try anything, anything at all."

"Good. If you see that beast resurface, kill it."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"I thought that- that… Dad died on the boat, the Gambit." Thea looked up at him, her features devoid of anything happy or joyful; she no longer resembled the girl he ached to see once more. "You took his body here? You brought it to the Island?"

Oliver stared at the graves; they looked the same as he remembered. "He was alive. He didn't drown on the Gambit. There were three of us who made it to a life raft- "

"Sara?"

"No, I had thought that she died. It was Dave Hackett, Dad's old bodyguard," the memory of jolting awake to a gunshot flooded him. "For a day or two, all three of us stayed in the life raft but…"

"But what?" Thea's eyes filled with subtle fire and Oliver felt relieved. "I want to know, Ollie. I deserve to know."

"Knowledge can be a burden, Thea, a curse beyond any other."

"I'm more than aware of that," she snapped, vestiges of her old self appearing. "I know about Sara and… Malcolm's hand in it, how I killed her. I want to know what happened to Dad."

"You call him 'Dad' now, I noticed."

"Stop trying to stall, Ollie."

"He killed himself," he whispered, the words painful to hear even after how much time had passed. "He had a gun - how, I don't know - and he shot Dave Hacketts and then he shot himself through his skull; he did it so that I would have a chance to live, to survive, to be able to come back home, to see you and Mom again."

Thea wavered on her feet and fell to her knees softly, face contorting into sorrow and shame; fresh tears welled in her eyes and Oliver hated it. "I'm sorry that you saw that," she whispered, putting her hand on their father's grave, brushing her fingers over one of the numerous rocks. "I can't even imagine."

"No, you can't, but thank you."

His sister laughed suddenly, a small one that sounded nothing like the hysterical laughter when Slade had appeared. "I would have thought I had run out of tears to cry," she wiped her cheeks. "I'm sick of crying."

"I'm sick of being part of the cause of it," he whispered. "I'm sick of watching and being able to do nothing to take away your pain."

"Sometimes you can't, Ollie. You're my older brother, but you can't always protect me. There are some things that you just can't save me from."

"Well said," he murmured.

"Why did you free him?" Thea stared up at him from her kneeling position; her features were grave but not furious. Thankfully, it seemed that she was willing to hear his reasoning. "What possible reason could you have for freeing our mother's murderer?"

"We need him, Thea. You asked me if I knew anyone else who could aid us in saving Starling City from H.I.V.E. and Damien Darhk. Slade perfectly fits the bill."

"No, I want more than that," his sister said flatly, standing to her feet, eyes dark and calculating; she resembled both Malcolm and their mother so much that it stole Oliver's breath. "You saw more of the beast than I did, and you're less forgiving than me. What enticed you to free him? I want the truth; no more lies, Ollie!"

"Do you know why he was so mad? Do you know why he no longer is?"

Thea blinked, lips parting. "There were differences between him… last night and before."

"Yes, because when you met him, Slade had been consumed by Mirakuru."

"You speak as if I know what that is. What is it?"

"A Super-Soldier serum developed by the Japanese in World War 2."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Once injected with the serum, it enhances one's physical abilities to levels that you can't fathom. Its regenerative capabilities were second to only the Lazarus Pit, what Nyssa had used to heal me. It was me who had injected him with it; he was dying, and I didn't have a choice. It healed him, absolutely, but my friend, my brother changed. He became hostile beyond any beast, aggressive beyond compare, insanity seeped into the furthest recesses of his mind and soul; his entire personality had become warped."

"The army," she whispered. "That night, when I was leaving Starling, when… Malcolm found me, these guys were inhuman - stronger than anyone possibly could be."

"They were part of Slade's Mirakuru-enhanced army that he had constructed to destroy the city that I loved."

"Why? Why did he hate you? Why was he obsessed with you?"

"It happened on the Island. After I injected him with Mirakuru, he became insane. There were three of us - well, four after Sara joined us- "

"Sara? She was with you here?"

"Yes, eventually. There was a madman; his name was Ivo. He himself was obsessed with the Mirakuru and had spent years searching for it."

"The Mirakuru was here, wasn't it? It was on the Island."

He nodded his head. "There was a woman on the Island with Slade and me: Shado. She was kind, gentle, and beautiful. We were both fond of her."

Thea groaned, "Holy shit, it's such a cliche."

"Yes, and Shado and I became intimate."

"What a surprise," she muttered.

Oliver glared at her. "Slade was injured by a direct strike of missiles against our position, and he was dying slowly. By the time we found the Mirakuru, there was no other choice. I injected him with it, but it seemed too late; his heart had stopped. Ivo captured all of the serum and forced me to choose."

"Choose?" Thea echoed softly, "What do you mean?"

"He forced me to choose between Sara and Shado, who would live and who would die."

Thea sputtered, outrage and horror etched into her stricken features. "That's insane! Who would do that? Why would he do that?"

"That's what I told him, that he was insane, but he didn't care. He was mad, Thea. Madmen don't need a reason, just a feeling."

"And you chose… Sara, didn't you? You chose her to be the one who lived."

"That's what Ivo thought," he closed his eyes. "He said that if I didn't choose, he'd kill them both. I ran out of time to choose and Ivo then suddenly pointed the gun at Sara. I reacted instinctively, jumping in front of her, and Ivo took that as my admission of choice. Then he shot Shado through the head before any of us could react. Moments later, Slade burst into the clearing, ripping men in half, punching through skulls and chests, ripping hearts out; the rabid savagery had begun. He found Shado's body and was distraught, the insane rage glowing in his eyes. He vowed that whoever killed her would suffer. We all buried her right here, next to her father, Yao Fei," he pointed at their graves.

"I'm sorry, Ollie."

Oliver looked at her, "You have nothing to do with that, Thea. You don't need to apologize."

"And Slade Wilson didn't take it well, then."

"Sara convinced me not to tell him exactly what happened, so we just told him that Ivo shot Shado point-blank without any reason."

"Why?"

"Sara didn't know Slade and since she knew how Mirakuru tampered with one's mind, she was scared to tell him the truth. In hindsight, I myself felt too guilty to tell him. It might have been Ivo who shot Shado, but because I instinctively reacted to him pointing the gun at Sara, Shado died."

"But that wasn't your fault!" Thea cried out, swinging her arm in an arc. "From what it sounds like, if Ivo had pointed the gun at Shado as he had done to Sara, you would have reacted instinctively then, leaping in front of her, too! Then Sara would have been the one to die, not Shado."

"I'm aware. I've thought of that night a lot. I fantasized about what I could have done differently for so long."

"How did Slade Wilson find out? He did, didn't he?"

"Yes, Ivo told him, manipulating his words to make it seem as if I had intentionally chosen for Shado to be murdered. Here's a word of advice, Thea: never debate with a deranged person because you'll never win. You'd be better off cutting their tongue out from their mouth; it's what I should have done with Ivo that fucking night when he turned Slade against me."

"That's why he hated you, then. That's what began everything, isn't it?"

"Yes, and it didn't help that I stabbed an arrow through his eye."

"That was you?" Thea stared at him with wide eyes. "You shot an arrow through his eyeball?"

"I was angry and thought that it would kill him."

"It didn't, though."

"No, the Mirakuru healed his brain but didn't regenerate his eyeball - why, I don't know. He came to Starling City to destroy everyone and everything that I loved - because I had taken whom he loved from him."

"Couldn't you have just reasoned with him?"

Oliver stared at her sadly. "Because of the Mirakuru, no."

"How? What makes you so sure?"

"Because look at who he is now. He's different, no longer that beast. He and I talked about a lot, and I reasoned with him. He is regretful and guilt-ridden for what he did; he said that it was like waking up from a horrible nightmare."

Thea swallowed, looking down to her feet. "I understand why you freed him, why you chose him to aid in saving Starling City, but I don't have those fond memories of him that you do. He kidnapped me, told me about… Malcolm, did so many other horrid things, and then worst of all, he killed Mom!"

"I also hold terrible memories - ones that you have experienced and ones that you haven't - with him at the center, Thea. He tortured me extensively, physically, and emotionally. He baited me for months as he threatened everything and everyone whom I cared for. Do you know how many times he said that he would kill you and Mom, kill Laurel and the Lances? I thought that he had killed Sara before I learned that she had survived and joined the League. Everything that he did was a direct assault against me."

"I'm guessing that he threatened all of us multiple times," she murmured.

"He manipulated everything, forcing me to sign over Queen Consolidated to that bitch whore when you were kidnapped by him. For a while, he turned Roy against me, and he was my worst nightmare because of the fucking Mirakuru, through and through." Oliver closed his eyes and sighed wearily. "I know that you don't trust him, that you never will, but I'm not expecting you to. What I am expecting you to do is work with him as we all work together to save Starling City and stop H.I.V.E. and Damien Darhk."

Thea stared up at him for several moments of stiff silence. "You're wanting me to look at the bigger picture instead of just myself."

"Yes."

"You want me to stand side-by-side with the one who terrorized both of our lives- "

"Yes."

"- and traumatized me."

"I know that it's cruel, but life isn't fair. We need to stop Darhk and H.I.V.E. and Slade is one of the only people in the world whom I trust who would obey me with the capability to fight Darhk's minions."

Thea inhaled deeply and exhaled softly several times, eyes shutting. "Fine, I'll work with him, but as you said, I'll never trust him - ever. If he does anything suspicious, I'll kill him and you won't be able to stop me again."

"I stopped you before because it would have haunted you, because I've been in that position before. Speaking of that, where'd you get the gun?"

"In one of the crates in the plane. I thought that it would be best if I had it in case of animals or something. I had no idea that there would be a beast appearing from thin air."

"I know that you hate him, but I'm thankful that you're willing to work with him to stop H.I.V.E. and Darhk." Oliver placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You may resent me for saying this, but I think that the two of you could be considered kindred spirits. You have a lot in common."

"What?" Thea glared at him, fire burning in her eyes. "How could you say such a thing?"

"Because it is true. Think about it: you both committed something terrible under the influence of a drug that warped your mind while you were under its effects." His sister's eyes were wide, lips parting in realization. "You took one life, but Slade took many. You feel tremendous guilt for your actions just as he does. You want to make amends and so does he."

Thea licked her lips, looking like she had just swallowed something acidic. "I guess that you're right."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"The last time when I was in this plane, I delivered a beaten and tortured Oliver to Sara and others; their punishment for defying me and killing Shado was to be stuck on the Island. They tried to assassinate me."

Nyssa raised a brow and looked at Slade Wilson, who sat across from her, sitting back against a crate. "Can you blame them?"

"No. I was shocked by it. I had thought that my power and supremacy undeniable, unbeatable. I was shocked that they would rebel against me with the Mirakuru in my veins. I thought that in some soft of twisted way, I had their loyalty, that it was beyond question."

"So was Brutus', and Caesar outranked you by a wide margin."

"Yes, I suppose so. I did deserve it, and if I hadn't smelt the TNT, it could have saved so many lives, stopped the series of events that…"

"The TNT wouldn't have killed you, though. You would have been more furious than hurt."

"You're right." Slade Wilson looked past her, staring at something that she couldn't see. "The girl, Thea, she's lost; she's been touched by the darkness. I saw it in her eyes. She was going to kill me, but the kid stopped it."

"You should be grateful. If it were my decision, I probably would have let her kill you."

"I'm aware."

"You fascinate me," she stated bluntly, watching Slade Wilson's one eye lock onto her pair of eyes. "All I've heard of is the monster consumed by Mirakuru from Sara, yet Oliver has spoken of you both highly and sadly. Everything that I know of you is a surplus of contradictions. I've heard of the devout teacher and mentor who then tortured his student and brother, and a man who fought for honor and order but reaped chaos everywhere he went. I don't know who you are. Are you the gruff but kind soldier who liberated those deserving of freedom, or the butchering monster who had slaughtered innocents?"

"The former."

"You don't sound certain."

"I'm not. I'm not that monster anymore, but I feel I'm too broken to be that… good man."

Nyssa, for whatever reason, felt empathy for the man. "I've been determining who I am without my father in my life. Who am I, truly? What are my values? Are they what my father has demanded, or my own?"

Slade Wilson tilted his head and Nyssa glimpsed sutures in the light through the opening in the plane. "I always knew that Ra's Al Ghul exists, only a fool wouldn't, but it is still a shock to be in the presence of one who knows him… intimately."

"My father is a cold and hard man," she chuckled slightly without amusement. "There is no closeness for him with anyone, even the concubines."

"I'm relieved that you see the truth," a woman's voice said to their sides. Nyssa snapped her head to the side, drawing her weapon; not just anyone could sneak up on her, and based on the briefly surprised expression on Slade Wilson's face, he hadn't had a clue either.

The woman was older by a number of years, but she was still beautiful. Nyssa's lips parted and she swallowed upon seeing those eyes; they were identical to her - no, their - father's.

"Talia," she whispered, lowering her sword.

Her older, exiled sister smiled sadly. "Hello, Nyssa. Oliver has told me about you."

She felt deprived of utterance, scarcely knowing what to say to the sister whom she had never met before, only hearing stories about her from her father and Oliver.

"I take it that you two know each other, then." Slade Wilson said slowly, one eye observing them both, posture tense, ready for battle. "You're Talia, I take. Should I know you?"

Nyssa watched Talia stare at Slade Wilson with thinly-veiled confusion. "No, but I know you, Slade Wilson. The one eye is a beacon to my own. I know much about you from Oliver. I can't understand why he would tolerate your presence."

"That makes two of us. You know the kid?"

"Of course, I trained him."

Slade Wilson actually looked offended. "The hell you did. It was me who created him, trained him, molding him after myself. Everything that he learned was thanks to me."

Talia raised a brow in objection, stepping closer to them. "You overestimate your importance, Slade Wilson. You laid the thick foundations for Oliver, yes, but you didn't teach him everything. Before he met me, he was only an incredible fighter. Thanks to me, he became an incredible warrior."

"You're here," she breathed out, finally finding words to speak. "I had thought that you wouldn't be."

Her sister looked down for a moment. "Oliver was quite convincing."

"He has that way with people." Slade Wilson muttered without malice. "I'm still waiting for an explanation as to why you're here, why the kid contacted you."

"I came because my favorite pupil, one whom I consider a friend, asked for my presence to aid him, and because he said that a family reunion was in order."

Slade Wilson's lone eye darted back and forth between them. "I do see the resemblance, actually. You two are sisters, the daughters of… Ra's Al Ghul?"

"Yes, we are," she said softly, still trying to grasp the reality where her sister was here -  _she was here!_  "How did you come here? Boat? How did you navigate your way to the plane?"

"Oliver often spoke of the Island; it was simple to piece together a map of the place." Talia slowly sat down near Nyssa. "By boat, yes, but I ran into several complications. That's why it took me so long."

"We didn't even arrive two days ago," she commented. "You're not late, I assure you. What were the complications."

"I'm not sure what you know of me, but I've been exiled since before your birth."

"I'm aware, don't worry. Father shared stories of you."

"Nothing good, I'm sure."

Nyssa sighed, shaking her head. "No. Among them, he held your crime against him as a warning to me."

"That's unsurprising."

Slade Wilson looked lost, a rarity Nyssa was certain. "Do you want me to… leave? I'm sure that my presence here is not welcome."

"Stay here," she ordered. "I want to keep an eye on you."

"You 'want to keep an eye on' me?" Slade Wilson chuckled slightly. "How considerate of you."

"Since my exile," her sister interrupted. "I have been watched constantly by Shadows. After my son was taken from me, I tried to commit suicide many times, but the Shadows wouldn't permit me death, claiming that Ra's Al Ghul wouldn't allow it. Everywhere I went, they followed me, watching me. I've known no true isolation until the boat ride to this place."

Nyssa leaned forward, "You killed them? You slew father's Shadows?"

"Yes. No Shadows or father himself knows that I'm here on Purgatory. To come here, to meet you, I have become an enemy to the League, not just a traitor."

XxXxXxXxXxX

**That's it for this one, everyone. What a little cliffhanger! I hope that you all enjoyed it and leave a review to tell me what you thought of it. I'd really appreciate it.**

****Oliver, Nyssa, and Thea arrive on the Island! Oliver has to deal with Thea's role in everything that happened a lot more because Thea is literally there, reminding him of what she had done. I hope that I portrayed Thea's struggle with guilt correctly; she was on the verge of a mental breakdown, I felt like.**

****Oliver recruits Slade! The plan was for Slade to always appear again and frankly, I would have never done it if I hadn't seen him and Oliver 'getting along' in Season 5 and Season 6. I thought that it would be interesting to see such a dynamic between the two of them where Oliver must trust him to help.**

****Felicity realizes some truths! Okay, I know for pretty much this entire story so far, I've been bashing Felicity's character a lot - and rightly so. For me, character growth and change are really important, so I had never intended for Felicity to stay the same throughout the story, even though she's done that in Canon. (If anything, she's gotten much worse.) To me, it seemed that her entire attraction and 'love' for Oliver was the stereotypical high school crush on the bad boy/alpha-type male by the nerd whom no one notices. (While I guess that can happen in real life, high school romances are just asinine because high schoolers don't know shit about life and what they want.) That has seemed to be the basis of Felicity's entire attraction for Oliver, so I had her kind of realize that she built Oliver up in her mind to be something that he never was.**

**I really hate playing all of these 'romance matching games' but Ray Palmer just makes more sense for Felicity. Her entire attraction/obsession with Oliver is unhealthy; he only gave her second looks out of guilt, I think. (It was obvious to anyone with a brain that Felicity was attracted to him, so he used those feelings against Slade to deal a crippling blow - administering the Mirakuru cure.) Ray clearly loved her and was willing to do anything for her - he would be good to and for her. So I decided to be kind to Felicity and have her straighten out her thinking, sort of.**

****Thea tried to kill Slade! For me, her reaction in Canon to seeing him during Season 3 was kind of disappointing although I truly do understand why they did what they did. But I wanted to change it up. Thea is only 20-years-old in this, still incredibly young; she just learned that her actions are what caused Sara's death - whom she considered to be a friend - and Oliver's own. She is guilt-ridden and distraught, so when she sees Slade Wilson, everything kind of breaks; it all condenses into irrational (although not completely) blame at Slade Wilson. I hope the scene wasn't too… Shakespearean, but I wanted a sense of realism to it that I felt had been lacking.**

****After calming down and when logic returns to her, Thea agrees to work with Slade Wilson after learning everything that had happened from Oliver, his reasoning. If any of you have a problem with it, just remember that Thea was willing to work with Malcolm even after she discovered the things that he had done to her, which were worse than Slade's in my opinion. I know that it may have seemed easier for her to 'work' with Malcolm because she was his father, but remember what happened immediately after she learned the truth? She condemned him to Ra's Al Ghul and the League; it was only because of Oliver that Malcolm survived the entire thing. So since she already tried to kill Slade, getting the hysteria out of her system for the time being, she has reached the point where she can put aside her emotions for the sake of saving Starling City, for the betterment of the 'group.'**

****Talia appears at the end! In case you didn't remember, in my version of the story which differs from Canon, Talia had an illegitimate son with a man to give Ra's Al Ghul his heir, but instead of her father being happy about it, he was furious. He banished her from the League, sending Shadows to watch her every move, prohibiting her from death via Lazarus Pit water. Her son was given back to his father and Talia hasn't seen him since.**

**I think that's everything. If you have questions, feel free to ask. It would really help me out if you guys left a review; it lets me know what's working and what isn't. I appreciate it!**

_**Stay Safe  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


	10. Chapter 9

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I really appreciate it! It makes my day every time I see a new one.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the tv show,** _**Arrow** _ **or any of the characters associated with the CW verse. If I did, maybe - not saying that it would -** _**Arrow** _ **wouldn't have become the joke that it did.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

"It's been a while," he whispered, feeling small surprise that Talia had, in fact, decided to come to Lian Yu. "It's good to see you."

His old mentor smiled at him warmly, although the permanent sadness still glowed in her eyes. "It is good to see you again, as well, Oliver. You have been busy."

Oliver gestured for Thea to follow him inside the plane. "More than you know."

His sister stared at Talia warily. "You're Nyssa's sister?"

"I am. You are Thea Queen. Oliver spoke of you in Russia."

He felt a warmth spread through him when Thea looked incredibly relieved, almost joyful. "It's a pleasure to meet you, then, Talia."

"Same to you, Thea Queen." Talia stared up at him, "I will admit that I had my trepidations about coming here, about meeting my sister, but thanks to you, Oliver, I realized how unfounded they were. I am thankful that you contacted me."

Oliver sat down near Slade, the only one who dared sit near him. "It wasn't a problem. I also figured that you could help us out with everything that's going on."

Talia nodded her head. "Yes, Nyssa has shared everything. I am sorry that our father maimed you, that you have been dragged into prophecies and destinies."

Thea perked up, refusing to look at Slade. "Prophecies? What prophecies?"

Nyssa finally spoke, "There is a prophecy with which my- our father has been obsessed. It pertains to the League's future and his own heir, who will succeed him as the Demon's Head."

"You've really entered into something big, kid." Slade murmured, shaking his head. "Ra's Al Ghul himself wants you as his heir?"

"From what I remember of our father, it is much more than mere wanting, Slade Wilson." Talia commented, "Ra's Al Ghul desperately covets a strong and mighty male heir above anyone. For years, I had deluded myself into thinking that I would be the heir who he needed- "

"I did, as well," Nyssa said softly. "Our father certainly did nothing to keep those thoughts from surfacing."

Talia smiled bitterly, "Yes. If anything, he encouraged them. I suspect that it was his way of pushing us to reach our potential as warriors, as Shadows. Once I realized that painful truth, I thought that a son of my own body would please him, that he would view my actions as loyalty. I birthed my son to be his heir but father was furious, terrifyingly so."

"Do you know what became of… your son?" Nyssa looked at her sister sadly, "All I know was that he was given back to his father, that he is only a year older than I am."

"You are right, sister mine," the reply was intentionally blank. "For all of our father's legendary and infamous wrath, he refused to kill a child, a grandson who carried his blood - however illegitimate he may be." Talia gazed at nothing and no one, eyes empty. "He was raised by a different woman who claimed to be his mother. He knows nothing of the truth of his heritage, of the noble and ancient blood that flows through his veins. His father and false-mother were murdered when he was just a boy, but I was unable to do anything. If I was even suspected of contacting him, father would kill him, regardless of blood ties; he wants me punished for my sin."

"What is his name?"

"Bruce. He is a smart man, now; he has entered the world of darkness, becoming a vigilante."

Oliver blinked, "You mean, he's a… warrior, too?"

"No. He is no warrior, not yet, maybe never if he does not receive the true training as you have, Oliver. He is as you were before you met me, albeit slightly less trained: a fighter. But there is a crucial difference between the fighter who you once were and the fighter my son is."

"The kid's better?" Slade finally spoke, looking interested.

"No- well, yes, but that is not what I meant, Slade Wilson."

"What's the difference, then? The kid here actually had a good teacher in me and your son didn't?"

Talia didn't look amused while Oliver felt a small smile twitch at his lips, something that he noticed seemed to displease Thea. "Perhaps, Slade Wilson, but there is something else, something much more pivotal and influential: my son refuses to kill whereas Oliver had embraced it, as he should have."

"Wait a minute," he whispered, beginning to connect the dots. "Is he the… the vigilante in Gotham? The Bat?"

"Yes."

"I've heard about him," he nodded and remembered. "For a while, I thought that he had the correct approach."

Talia looked disappointed, "And this belief correlated within the time when you stopped killing after your friend, Thomas Merlyn's death. I am glad that you have realized your error since, Oliver. It is unbecoming for one as brilliant as you to act so foolish. I wish that my son would realize what you have."

"There's no way for you to contact your son?" Thea finally interjected, "Couldn't you, I don't know, send a letter?"

"Until my father's death, there is nothing that I can do. To do otherwise, would be to ordain death befall my son. I refuse to let that occur."

Oliver hoped that his tone was kind. "Soon, your father will die by my hand, and I will free you to visit your son." Slade stared at him sharply, but he ignored it. "The prophecies say as much."

"The prophecies, they talk about Ollie, then?" Thea demanded. "What do they say?"

"Yes, they do, Thea." Nyssa glanced at Slade for a moment before looking at Oliver. "Do you wish to reveal them, or not?"

He found her thinly-veiled distrust amusing, even endearing. "Just say it. There's no harm in it."

"Very well," she looked briefly at Talia before she continued. "It goes:

_His aim is true and it will never quell.  
_ _His incessant blows clashed like ringing bells.  
_ _He faced the end and the truth as he fell._

_Rising from the cold hands of death, he came.  
_ _From the Demon's blade, he survived his maim.  
_ _'A worthy heir' Ra's Al Ghul will proclaim._

_An inheritance beyond a treasure,  
_ _He becomes the most worthy successor,  
_ _And hailed above he who is most clever._

_The Demon's daughter cemented the path.  
_ _Her home shall face the true immortal's wrath.  
_ _The Ring will be key to thwart the bloodbath."_

"You weren't wrong," Slade said immediately. "It is ominous-sounding."

"Demon's daughter?" Thea echoed softly, looking at both Nyssa and Talia. "Which one is it talking about? You two are the only daughters of Ra's Al Ghul, right? Or are there more?"

"Shockingly, our father has always been incredibly wary of siring children with his concubines. We are his only two living children." Nyssa answered, looking at Talia for confirmation; she nodded her head in agreement. "I think it is so that no civil war breaks out in the League as contenders for the mantle of the Demon's Head vie for the power."

"That makes sense," Slade commented wryly. "And if I had to guess, I'd say that Nyssa is who the prophecy is talking about; she made the choice to ally with Oliver, who will… become Ra's Al Ghul's heir."

Talia looked at her sister, "I had always thought it to be myself because of my choice to have Bruce, but now, I see that it could just as easily - if not more - be speaking of you."

"That is the conclusion that I have reached, sister." Nyssa looked tranquil; she had made her peace with the prophecy. "I do not regret my choice."

"And the true immortal's wrath," Slade leaned back slightly. "Who is that? Ra's Al Ghul is immortal- "

"Not a true immortal," Nyssa interrupted. "His lifespan is extended because of the Lazarus Pit. The prophecy speaks of someone who… who is ageless, who cannot die." She looked at her sister anxiously, "Do you know of whom it speaks? Do you know the true immortal?"

"No. Sadly, I do not," Talia frowned. "I have always wondered and have spent many years sifting through legends and myths, but have found no answers."

Oliver pinched his nose briefly. "I still don't understand how… how Nyssa's actions in reviving me cause Nanda Parbat to be targeted by this unknown true immortal."

Talia sighed, "I have had many, many years to decipher the prophecy. I had thought it to be me after I bore Bruce, but I no longer believe that to be true. When I had believed it, I had thought that the true immortal targeted Nanda Parbat for something that Bruce would eventually do."

"What are you saying?" He demanded, "You think that I will do something to piss off the true immortal?"

"That is only a theory, Oliver. I am no seer. I know not what the future entails."

Nyssa frowned, "But I understand. It is a… a…" she closed her eyes and sighed. "There was something that Sara said quite often about… how a change in one place can cause bigger, more complex changes in another."

"Wait… the butterfly effect?" He asked incredulously; he would have never known that she knew of it, regardless of Sara.

"Yes, the butterfly effect." Nyssa nodded. "I think that of which Talia believed is the same in how my choice to save you, Oliver, could lead to further actions and changes in the future. Thus focusing the true immortal's wrath on Nanda Parbat, where if everything goes according to the prophecies, you will be Ra's Al Ghul."

"It is a butterfly effect, then," Thea's eyes widened, "Wow, that makes a lot of sense."

"What is this butterfly effect?" Talia narrowed her eyes, "I have never heard of this… theory."

"Clearly," Slade chuckled. "Do you want to take this one, kid?"

"Sure," he sighed. "A butterfly lands on a giraffe's nose in Africa, which then causes the giraffe to sneeze. The sneeze spooks a nearby gazelle that dashes off and runs into a rhinoceros. Then the rhinoceros blindly stampedes into a human village causing destruction and possible death. That leads to the humans killing the rhino and having food for months. That's the butterfly effect, Talia."

"I've never heard it told that way before," his sister said after a moment. "But that's a good one."

"I understand now, Oliver." Talia nodded, "Thank you."

"So the kid, by becoming Ra's Al Ghul after Nyssa's decision to… revive him, will be part of his own butterfly effect, then?" Slade's one eye narrowed, "You need to be careful about what you do, kid."

Oliver shook his head, "These prophecies are true. No matter what I do, I think that the true immortal will attack Nanda Parbat, which is Nyssa's home. It's unavoidable; the only thing to do is prepare for it."

Nyssa inclined her head, "Well said. Before Oliver and I departed, I told Sarab to sift through the League's records about any mention of a true immortal; he was to be discreet about it."

Talia raised a brow, "It is doubtful that he will stumble across anything, sister. Father is notorious for his… secrets."

Thea frowned, "But why would the true immortal be a secret?"

"Ra's Al Ghul is believed to be immortal by those of whom know about his existence." Talia stated evenly, "For thousands of years, there has been a Demon's Head and only those in the League know that every couple of centuries, a new incarnation of Ra's adorns the Ring." Oliver straightened but listened to her words. "I suspect that if father does know of the true immortal, he would never reveal the secret to anyone save his heir; there would be no record of it. Ra's Al Ghul is supposed to be the only immortal in the world, the one who everyone fears. It would be a scandal if there was another one, a true immortal who was ageless, unlike father."

"That makes sense," his sister muttered. "It's just like politics."

"Ring?" He questioned, "It talked about a ring in the prophecy."

Talia glanced at Nyssa, "Did you not tell him of the Demon's Ring?"

"That is what it meant?" Nyssa demanded, looking surprised. "It spoke of father's ring?"

"I had always assumed, yes. It is astonishing that you did not come to the same conclusion." Talia paused before she sighed, "He never told you about it, did he?"

Nyssa leaned forward and Oliver dimly realized that he followed her action. "No, he did not. What is the Demon's Ring besides what Ra's Al Ghul wears?"

"It is his power." Talia's eyes locked onto his own and Oliver felt the unpleasant memory of Ra's Al Ghul's eyes staring down at him before plunging the blade through his chest. "Father only spoke of it once, but he said that the Ring bonds to the true Demon's Head; the legends say that it even enforces his will on the Shadows."

"That sounds like magic," he murmured. "We don't know if it's true, though."

"Our answers will only come when you ascend to Ra's Al Ghul, Oliver." Nyssa's eyes were unwavering, "None of us know the true extent of father's power."

"What's the other prophecy?" Thea broke in, "That was only one."

"I believe that I can quote it," Talia remarked with small shades of amusement. "Father forced me to memorize it; it is still stuck in my mind. It says:

_The fortress will smoke underneath the moon.  
_ _The rival will hear the tramp of his doom.  
_ _He'll flee from his place to die in disgrace  
_ _Beneath the night sky, beneath the impugn._

_The wind will come from the sky frigid cold,  
_ _Like an ocean, it will be uncontrolled.  
_ _The fallen will groan, the fortress will moan,  
_ _And League blood will be shed upon the mold._

_Ra's Al Ghul will descend unto his hall,  
_ _Under Nanda Parbat, mighty and tall!  
_ _His foe has faced the end, his once-best friend,  
_ _And for eternity his foes shall fall!_

_Time will pass on from the West to the East;  
_ _Movements from loyal Shadows will have ceased.  
_ _But hitting its long mark across the dark,  
_ _The critical tidings will be released._

_It will pass the ears of loyal Shadows bare,  
_ _And sweep through the Head of the Demon's lair:  
_ _Their death to conquer will lay great honor,  
_ _And flying arrows will blaze through the air._

_The arrows will leave the bow and take flight  
_ _Over the eternal seas of the night.  
_ _They will carry great sail upon the gale,  
_ _And the Fates will bless with radiant light._

_The Demon's Ring once again will be freed.  
_ _The worthy heir, the summons must show heed.  
_ _His ire will be more destructive than fire,  
_ _While legions of Shadows follow his lead._

_The swords will be most keen and the spears long,  
_ _The arrows fly swift while the men are strong.  
_ _Their hearts will be fierce for their blades to pierce;  
_ _The Shadows no more shall suffer a wrong."_

"You're going places, kid." Slade stared at him, disbelief shining in his single eye. "Who would have thought that you would make it so far? I still remember that whiny brat who begged for his life when we first met."

"I had to break my wrist to earn your respect, and of course, my life," he recalled, ignoring Thea's queasy and horrified expression. "Then I socked you in the face."

"Oliver is Ra's Al Ghul's destined heir." Nyssa interrupted smoothly, "Father knows by now that he is alive."

"What do you mean?" Slade leaned forward, opting to look at Nyssa and Talia instead of Thea, Oliver noticed. "You're the only one who knows from the League, right? I thought that it was you alone who healed him."

"You have not been told everything by Oliver, I am learning. There was one other who helped me heal Oliver: Sarab."

Slade frowned, "I had assumed when you mentioned him earlier, that you only meant when you and the kid departed Starling City, not… wherever it was you revived him."

Oliver shook his head, "Assumptions are the mother of all failures, Slade."

His old friend actually glared at him. "I'm the one who taught you that."

"Yes, but it seems that you don't follow your own teachings."

"The Phantom," Talia murmured in interruption, looking at Nyssa. "To witness a duel of the Demon's Head, to be in the company of his blood, one must be in favor with him. Is Sarab father's newest Horseman?"

"Yes. We were the two witnesses to the duel between father and Oliver."

"It was a slaughter, not a duel," he corrected tiredly, hoping that his words would help Thea subtly understand how dangerous Ra's Al Ghul was.

"Why did Sarab help you?" Slade demanded, looking at ease - it reminded Oliver of the past on Lian Yu, of the time in the very plane that they were sitting in. "Or did you force him to? Then he escaped and has alerted Ra's Al Ghul that his… heir is alive."

"I knew him," he said before Nyssa could.

Thea sighed with something that Oliver couldn't discern. "Do you know everybody?"

"Only the important ones," he countered. "Maseo Yamashiro was my friend in China while I worked for A.R.G.U.S."

"I always wondered about that, kid." Slade's one eye measured him, "The rumors that I heard were that A.R.G.U.S. had gotten its hands on a skilled man with a bow."

"They weren't wrong. I was blackmailed by Waller to work for A.R.G.U.S. or else my family would be killed."

Thea's eyes widened before she exclaimed, "What the hell? Who the fuck do they think they are? And what the hell is A.R.G.U.S.? Why the hell are there so many organizations with acronyms for names?"

Oliver raised a brow. "It's basic business economics, Thea. People remember one word better than two, and so on. Acronyms make remembering easier."

"I thought that you dropped out of college, kid." Slade sounded impressed and amused. "Where'd you learn that?"

"From my father before the Gambit; it's one of the only things that stuck with me. A.R.G.U.S. is a government agency headed by Amanda Waller. John Diggle's wife works for them as one of their higher-ups. That reminds me: Waller and I need to talk about what she's done to me." Oliver felt the memories swarm him of his time being forced to work for Waller; the rage was strong. "I'm going to jam an arrow- "

"In her eye?" Slade guessed. "That's becoming a habit with you, kid."

"I was going to say heart," he replied flatly. "What's becoming a habit is me stabbing an arrow in people who threaten my loved ones; it's not a bad one."

Slade nodded, the guilty look on his face blatant. "Can't say that I didn't deserve it."

"And it sounds like this bitch, Waller deserves one, too." Thea snapped, looking displeased that she responded to something that Slade had said.

"Waller held the lives of my sister and mother above my head to force me to work with her; she even held Maseo's son's life, too. She is as arrogant as anyone who I've ever met because of the power that she thinks she wields; she will soon realize how weak she really is when compared to someone like me." Oliver inhaled slowly to quell the rising anger caused by the memories and images of which Waller tortured him with. "I don't care what she says. There is no manipulation that will stop me from killing her; she is a snake and has done enough to innocents to warrant death."

"We were talking about Sarab, Oliver." Nyssa urged after a moment. "Shall you share, or shall I?"

Oliver nodded, "Maseo was my friend but eventually, after a tragedy that involved his son's death, he joined the League and became Sarab."

"The Alpha and Omega outbreak in Hong Kong." Talia leaned back, staring at Thea. "It is a bioweapon that summons death itself."

"And father has it," Nyssa commented lowly.

He felt the air pass through his throat painfully as he inhaled sharply. "What? Your father has the Alpha and Omega bioweapon?"

"Is there an echo in here?" Slade muttered.

"You're brave," he glared at him.

"Why don't you just stay quiet?" Thea snapped, crossing her arms; her Malcolm-like eyes burned. "You've been talking too much; it'll be better for everyone."

Slade nodded his head slowly, "Very well."

Oliver sighed wearily, "Why didn't you tell me that your father had the Alpha and Omega, Nyssa? That damn thing killed thousands in Hong Kong, among them Akio."

"Akio?" Thea echoed, "Who is that?"

"Maseo's son."

"I never saw any importance in it, Oliver." Nyssa held his stare calmly, "I never contemplated it; there have been more important things to worry about. You do not need to worry. If everything goes according to our plan, then once you become the Demon's Head, you can do whatever you want with the Alpha and Omega."

"How did your father get a hold of it? Who gave it to him?"

"Sarab did."

Oliver stared at her in disbelief, trying to make sense of her words. "You can't be serious. Why would Maseo…? I don't understand."

"I do not have the answers to those questions, Oliver. The only one who can answer them for you is Sarab."

Talia cut through before anyone else. "We are digressing, everyone."

"My thoughts exactly," Slade whispered with such softness that only Oliver heard.

"What was your purpose in inviting me here other than meeting my sister, Oliver?" Talia's eyes captured his own, "What do you want to do?"

"I came here to train Thea. She desperately needs it; she was half-trained at best by Malcolm."

"Nyssa and I will then focus on that," his old teacher said after a moment.

Thea's lips parted, "Now wait just a minute- "

"She's right, Thea," he cut her off, realizing that Talia was correct. "I could teach you, but the way that I fight wouldn't be suitable for you. You're a woman and require a different style to master than my own. The reason why you were only half-trained by Malcolm is that he was ill-equipped to complete your training. I would probably be in the same boat as him. Nyssa and Talia are both two of the finest warriors I've ever met. They can teach you much better than I ever could, better than any man."

"Fine, but what will you and… him do?" Thea didn't look happy, but she was calm. "Are there any other prisoners who you want to free?"

Oliver ignored the thought of Digger Harkness. "No. Slade and I will figure out how to deal with Darhk's magic."

"How are you going to do that, Oliver." Nyssa raised a brow in curiosity. "Not even I know anything about his magic except his ability to control one's own body."

"My knowledge is very sparse on Damien Darhk, too." Talia sounded irked, "I only know of what father has told me, and it was incredibly rare when he shared information; it was always vexing."

"Damien Darhk can use magic?" Slade leaned forward, "You didn't tell me that, kid."

"Yes," Nyssa smiled tightly. "According to the stories about him, he can freeze someone in place and it is impossible for them to break free; they become as still as a statue. Some have even called him the son of the stone-turner, Medusa because of it."

"Kid, you better have a plan, but knowing you, I suspect that you don't."

He sighed, "You're right, I don't have a plan - not yet."

"Then how are you going to defeat him?" Thea exclaimed, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Watching Thea with astute eyes, Nyssa stood next to her sister, unsure how exactly they would train Oliver's sister; it was only the three of them alone standing in the field around the plane. Oliver and Slade Wilson had departed earlier to keep Thea free from distractions and to decipher a way to beat Damien Darhk's magic.

"You know, I know quite a lot already." Thea stated hesitantly, "Ma- Malcolm taught me."

Talia tilted her head, "Then attack me. Hold nothing back; seek to kill. Let us see what Al Sa-her has taught you."

Nyssa stepped to the side and nodded at Thea. "We must know what you already know. I have an idea but it is only that. As Talia said, hold nothing back, Thea."

Thea swallowed and she stilled, determination sweeping through her once-hesitant features. She lowered herself slightly and dashed forward with surprising grace; it contrasted vastly to the memory of her running at Slade Wilson with mad eyes. Talia easily ducked Thea's punch and continued evading each hit and kick; she looked like she was gliding across the ground, her physical agility at a level that Nyssa wasn't sure that she herself could match yet.

"You become frustrated too easily, Thea Queen," her sister stated evenly, raising her arm to easily block Thea's hurried strike. "Frustration, if not tempered by the mind, leads to rushed attacks which then leads to death." The heel of Talia's palm suddenly blurred upward and connected with Thea's chin; the girl stumbled back and involuntary tears welled in her eyes. "It is difficult to control your emotions, yes, but it must be done if you want to survive in combat."

"Malcolm Merlyn has taught you well during the short time when he did." Nyssa called out when she realized that Thea wasn't going to attack Talia again. "But he has not taught you everything; you still have much to learn."

Thea wiped away the involuntary tears, "I thought that he was teaching me to be strong," she hissed bitterly. "He was only molding me to be a tool."

"Accept these truths," Talia said bluntly. "Be honest with yourself for it is the only way to succeed. We have much work to do if you are to survive against Darhk's minions."

"I'm ready. Teach me."

Nyssa nodded, "First, who do you think who you will be fighting?"

Thea looked incredulous, "H.I.V.E., that's who. Darhk's minions, of course."

"I believe that I understand what my sister is alluding to," Talia interrupted. "By a statistical estimation, with whom with you be fighting more: men or women?"

"Um… men, I think," Thea guessed hesitantly. "That seems more likely."

"That is correct, Thea," Nyssa glanced at her sister. "Almost all warriors of this world are men; it is extraordinarily rare when a woman is a warrior as Talia, I, and hopefully you are - and as Sara was. Specifically, these soldiers for H.I.V.E. will be men; they are bred for combat. The bodies and minds of men have been evolved for countless generations to the art of war and combat."

Talia's lips twitched, "Father's lessons have stuck with you."

"They had to," she countered. "They saved my life many a time."

"Mine, as well."

Thea blinked, "Okay, but why is it so important that I'll be fighting men more than women? I already learned how to do it from… Malcolm; he said to never be in reach of a man's arms."

"That is true, Thea Queen." Talia's small smile faded and was replaced with seriousness. "There is so much more that you must understand. These warriors who you will face, they will mostly be men, yes."

"I'm aware of that."

Nyssa shook her head, "Not aware enough. Training itself doesn't prepare these capable men into fighters; it is what makes them warriors, not fighters. Their biology, their very physiology prepares them more than training most likely will - at least at first. You cannot train someone to have testosterone or a penchant for violence and deep aggression - and you cannot teach it, either. In men who will become warriors, the same kind who you will face, who are already significantly greater genetically than the average man, those things are already there. Whether we like it or not, Thea, these men are biologically and physiologically predisposed for war and combat with their great strength, bone density, physical resiliency, hand-eye coordination, and speed."

"My son, Bruce is a good example of this, Thea Queen, and your brother is, as well." Talia gazed at nothing in particular but her words were clear and calm. "When I first met Oliver, he was a great fighter, one of, if not the best who I have encountered. He had learned much, it is true, but his biological instincts supported him so much easier and quicker; this island brought his dispositions to the surface and he became a warrior capable of many things. My son, from what I do know, was trained by his butler and several half-trained specialists who he hired, but that is it; he has never had true warrior training, but he is a great fighter as Oliver was, in spite of his folly in showing continuous mercy to those of whom are not deserving."

"Only a woman who is incredibly well-trained and with tremendous experience - such as myself or Talia - can engage in combat with a male warrior." Nyssa stared at Thea intently, willing the girl to understand. "That is what my father has taught me and as Talia and I said earlier, it has saved our lives in the past. Malcolm Merlyn has bested me and in spite of our equal training, he always won because of his greater strength and durability. For every punch and hit that I could take without falling unconscious, he could take more than thrice as many from me; that was the difference between us. He was much stronger than me. I do not like to admit it, Thea, but I refuse to allow false perceptions to blind you from the truth that you must know. It is why Oliver defeated him - and quite easily, as well - and why I was never able to. When two warriors are equally skilled in a battle, no matter if they are a woman or man, it is often strength that wins the fight."

"And that's why you two are teaching me instead of Ollie, then? You're both in my shoes." Thea's words were soft, "How do you do it? How do you… beat them, then?"

Talia's lips twitched again and she raised a finger and held it at her temple. "By using your mind and keeping calm to remember your training. You will triumph over many men in your life because they are not warriors; only the warriors will be problematic for you. But there is a way to defeat them. All warriors have heart; whether it is cold and dark or filled with life, it does not matter. In my experience, the problems with many male warriors are that their arrogance and egos are enormous; they do not think straight when in the presence of who they believe to be a frail woman. It is incredibly rare when a warrior man views a warrior woman with respect and seriousness, and you do not necessarily want that to happen when engaged in combat. You must strike fast and with vicious intent while the man is at first stunned. Use your weapons instead of fighting hand-to-hand; your chances of survival increase when you remain out of reach from a man. If you are forced to engage in a true hand-to-hand fight with a man, remember that timing, speed, and leverage are important, Thea Queen; apply strikes to vital organs and weak points in the body. While women have a higher pain threshold than men, a man can endure extraordinary amounts of bodily punishment that a woman never could."

"What does that mean?" Thea frowned and crossed her arms across her chest, "What do I do, then?"

"You must continue to attack your opponent relentlessly before he recovers - and the dangerous, deadly ones always do - and strike the final, mortal blow. Use your weapons - always. A man can endure many things, but a sword through the chest or decapitation is not one of them."

Nyssa ignored the memory of watching their father thrust his sword through Oliver's chest and kept her voice calm as she spoke. "Even in the League, which is composed foremost of men, the male Shadows are easier to train and mold; they view women, even me, the daughter of the Demon's Head as weaker. From a point of view, it is understandable, but we use that to our advantage - and the advantage cannot even be measured because it can be so great at times. Their arrogance and disinclination to view women with seriousness are part of their downfall."

"You get them to let down their guard?"

Nyssa nodded, "If it is possible, and you absolutely must rely on your mind and training instead of your body. Male warriors can rely solely on their body in combat if necessary, but women cannot; we must always be thinking. It is imperative that you know this. When you attacked Slade Wilson, he had so many opportunities to kill you that I can scarcely recall them all."

"I had not been aware of that," her sister stared hard at Thea. "You are only alive because of Slade Wilson's sorrow and self-loathing, Thea Queen."

Thea frowned, not looking pleased. "Ollie would have killed him if he did anything to me."

"That is true, but then you would still most likely be dead," she pointed out. "But the point of recalling that is, you were not thinking at all when you foolishly, but understandably attacked him. You cannot do that when in combat, Thea. You must never allow your emotions to cloud your judgment, or you will be killed just like millions before you."

"This is a lot harder than I had thought," Thea closed her eyes briefly. "We are the underdogs, then."

Nyssa frowned, "What does that mean? What are underdogs?"

"Thea Queen is declaring that we are the weaker party in combat." Talia cut in, "It is a true statement but it is up to her if she wishes to allow that to stop her progress. We prove ourselves stronger than men by dealing with our inherent weakness and using it to defeat them; it is a victory that cannot be understated."

Thea swallowed, "I want to do what I can to save my home. Ollie has done so much and… I want to do that, too."

Nyssa felt a smile pull her lips. "Good. You have potential but we will bring it to the surface. What Malcolm Merlyn did was only the beginning. Whether you like it or not, you are his blood daughter; you are of his blood. It means that you will be a good warrior under our guidance."

"Let us begin, then." Talia murmured and Nyssa looked at her sister; she felt a bond already beginning to form.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"We can't think of anything? How is that?" Oliver sighed and felt his temper begin to boil. "We are two of the most experienced men in the world. Darhk's magic… there must be some way to destroy it."

Slade shrugged, "I don't know, kid. I wasn't even aware that magic existed hours ago and that one of the most dangerous men in the world, who is also as old as Ra's Al Ghul, was capable of wielding it. I've got nothing. I don't know how it works; there's nothing for me to base it on. I have no prior experience with magic."

He closed his eyes and exhaled. "I… I may know of someone who can help us."

"Who?"

"John Constantine," he opened his eyes with a frown. "He wields magic and owes me a favor."

"Where did you meet a magic-wielder, kid?"

Oliver smiled with no mirth. "Here on the Island."

"When?"

"Around four years ago. There's a secret underground chamber on the Island; it housed a mystical artifact and I encountered John when he was looking for it. Since I knew the landscape, he demanded that I help him."

"Sounds like a bold one."

"He's a jackass," he felt a small laugh escape him. "He's the cockiest bastard I've met, but he's a good man. When we entered the underground dwelling, his magic was smothered by something. I saved his life from one of the traps and ever since, he's owed me a debt."

Slade leaned back, "Why do you sound hesitant to call in this favor?"

"I had always been holding it until an emergency. This isn't an emergency yet."

"Really? Are you sure about that?" Slade raised his brow, "You don't know where Darhk is. You don't know how powerful he is. And you don't know what is going on in Starling City in your absence."

"Damn it, you're right," he grunted. "This is the beginning stages of an emergency. I just… I never wanted to use the favor like this."

"Who knows, kid?" Slade shrugged, pushing himself off of the tree. "We don't know what this Constantine will tell us. Maybe he can just go in and kill Darhk for us. Maybe he knows everything and it will make is so much easier."

Oliver glared at him, "Based on experience, that's not going to happen."

"I agree, but you never know. Sometimes an expectation is wrong."

"It rarely is for us."

"That's true, kid."

"I'll give him a call. We need to get back to the plane to do it."

"You have a phone that works here?"

"When I came back here after Malcolm's Undertaking, I set up a full wireless network in the plane. No one knows it exists and I brought a phone as a precaution."

Slade nodded and didn't speak for a moment. "When I first met you, I was going to kill you; you were a spoiled prick. But now, years later, you've surpassed me and pretty much everyone else and will become… Ra's Al Ghul. It's… it seems unthinkable."

Oliver paused and looked at him. "Your point?"

"You're… okay with that? You're okay with becoming Ra's Al Ghul?"

"I wasn't at first," he admitted as they continued walking back towards the plane. "I was bombarded with information immediately when I woke up from… death."

"That's tactless."

"I can't blame Nyssa or Maseo for it; they were desperate and by that point, I had been gone for almost two months."

"How did they… revive you? Nyssa mentioned Lazarus Pit water."

"There wasn't much of it. You'd have better luck asking her."

"I doubt that she'd answer me."

"That's probably true. I was truly dead, Slade. My body was fucked; my spine was broken in many places, my arm was almost cut off, one of my lungs was missing and I think the other one was collapsed from the fall, and then there was a gaping hole in my chest, and that's with my crushed windpipe and throat."

Slade inhaled sharply, "The legends of Ra's Al Ghul's affinity to wield death weren't overstated, then."

"No, they weren't. Nyssa didn't have much of the Lazarus Pit water and Maseo had his sword, soultaker to restore my soul; it was a family heirloom from his wife's side."

"A sword? I'm learning more about mystical shit than I ever thought."

"They used the Lazarus Pit water carefully and only used what was necessary; they hardly had enough for my throat and did what they could. Then I was unconscious as my body adjusted and still healed; my immune system and nerves needed to… recuperate."

"And then you learned that you would become Ra's Al Ghul when you woke up." Slade looked at him with his one eye. "You told me that you were more than wearing that hood; you said that Oliver Queen was still part of you. If you become Ra's Al Ghul, that won't be true."

"I know," he sighed. "I told you that I was a hero when I put you away, but… I lied. I was never a hero, even when I didn't kill during that- "

"Sabbatical?"

"Something like that. Death offered me perspective and all I had done was play at being a hero. Heroes don't kill. It was only a matter of time before I killed again; it's ingrained to be part of me. This world is not a kind place; humanity can be dark and miserable and that breeds the worst of people. Killing was always part of the equation, part of me but I was too stubborn to see it."

"But you tried, kid," his old friend's words were soft. "That's more than what most can say. You took a shot and while it was a stupid shot, it took a lot of strength and willpower to stick with it as long as you did. I don't think that anyone could blame you for wanting to be that hero. Even while on the damned Mirakuru, I had been amazed at your, in his words, stupidity; it took fortitude that I will never have, that most don't possess."

"You know, I really wanted to be that hero," he whispered and knew that if he had his real voice back, those words would have still been said in a whisper. "Gotham is notorious for its… criminality. I had seen the Bat not killing and I had thought that if he was willing to allow all of those scum of the Earth to live, then I can do the same. I wanted to be like him, but I see now that it was never an option; it was a fool's belief."

"His mother more than agrees with that," Slade snorted. "Speaking of that sort of, I had thought that the blonde would have her tentacles on you by now."

Oliver glanced at him with a frown. "You really were delusional on the Mirakuru, weren't you?"

"Of course. Why?"

"It wasn't my… my best moment, but I was desperate. I manipulated Felicity, used her feelings for me against you so that I could get to you with the cure."

Slade stopped walking and tilted his head. "... You found the cameras, didn't you?"

"I did and I knew that I could trick you, so I used Felicity to do it; she then administered the cure and we both know the rest."

"So you didn't… love her, then?" Slade touched the bark of one of the trees, "Even under the Mirakuru, I had thought it strange, but… I thought that the shit they say about opposites attracting could be true."

"No, I didn't," he murmured. "I tricked myself into thinking that I did, though. After I locked you away, I felt so guilty about manipulating her that I… deluded myself into thinking that I loved her."

"That was soft of you, kid. You were in the fucking Bratva."

"I know, but she was my friend and… I don't have many friends. It wasn't until I died when I realized what I had been doing."

"You were just making it worse. You realize that, don't you? Even I can see that."

"Yes. I know that now, but… I had thought that I was sparing her."

Slade suddenly barked out a laugh. "There's the ego and arrogance of Oliver Queen, thinking that all women who love him would be crushed to bits if he didn't return their sentiments. So imagine my surprise when I noticed that you, kid, seem very fond of Ra's Al Ghul's youngest daughter."

Oliver glared at him and began walking back towards the plane; Slade followed him. "We're not talking about that."

"Well, at least you're aware of it."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Has there been anything?" Diggle demanded, looking at the computer screens. "Have you seen something that could point us to Darhk and Brickwell?"

Felicity huffed, "Why do you sound like you already know the answer?"

"I'm a lawyer, Felicity," Laurel cut in flatly. "I don't know about John, but your avoidance of answering his questions speak louder than any words that you could utter."

"I wasn't going to say it like that," he said slowly, knowing that everyone's tempers were close to erupting. "But could you just tell us what you have found, Felicity?"

His friend slumped in her chair. "I've found nothing. I've hacked into everything that I can. Cameras have seen nothing; it's like none of Darhk and Brick's people use phones. How is that possible?"

"Darhk is as old as Ra's Al Ghul," he rubbed a tired hand over his face. "He would know better than anyone how to communicate without technology."

"You know, I had thought that this part would be really easy, but… it's not." Laurel's words were soft, "Apparently, Oliver and Nyssa paid my dad a visit and revealed the truth about Sara to him."

Diggle's eyes widened, "Damn."

"I'm so sorry, Laurel." Felicity whispered, "We had no idea."

"Yeah. Dad wasn't pleased and he's angry with me, more than he's ever been." Laurel's eyes stared at nothing in particular. "Oliver just… he's flipped everything upside down. I don't know what to do, now."

"I don't know, either," Roy finally spoke; his eyes were latched onto the 'Arrow' suit. "Oliver is alive but why does it feel like something has been… lost with his return?"

"Don't say that," he cut in. "What happened is that we became used to a routine, the four of us, and with Oliver back in the fold, it has been disrupted."

Roy looked at him and Diggle was surprised by the anger in his eyes. "What if he doesn't want back in the fold?"

"What are you talking about?" Diggle demanded, noticing that both Felicity and Laurel, too, turned to face Roy. "Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know, man, but… Oliver seemed almost dismissive about it; he doesn't even trust us." Roy snapped, standing to his feet; he began to pace back and forth, posture tense. "Why wouldn't he take me with him? I mean, I could help him! Why would he train me and take me under his wing if he's just going to… to leave me here when I could help him and Thea out?"

"Maybe he forgot," Felicity offered hesitantly. "He was… different when he came back."

"That's an understatement," Laurel snorted without mirth. "I've known Oliver my entire life. I've loved him in the past and… the man who I saw, that wasn't Oliver. That was someone else; it's hard now to remember a time when I ever did love him."

Diggle sighed and finally sat down on the corner of the table; he recognized it as the perch where Merlyn's head had been placed. "You all bring up valid points and honestly, I do feel the same to some degree, but… can any of us imagine it?"

"Imagine what, Dig?" Roy finally stopped pacing; he looked even angrier. "I'm having a hard time seeing past Oliver's actions."

"That's the problem," he smiled sadly and tilted his head back; the rafters seemed more receptive to his words than the others did - at least for now. "I've had time to think about it and that's all that I've done, but… I've seen this type of thing before. A man from war comes back changed; he gets captured and if he's rescued, he's someone else. None of us can imagine what Oliver has experienced in these past months. We know that a sword was stabbed through his chest and miraculously, incredibly missed all of his vital organs. We know that he was kicked off of a mountain and somehow was alive on a cliff when he was found. We know that Nyssa Al Ghul and Sarab - or Maseo, as Oliver said - were the only reason why he survived at all; they nursed him back to health. We know that his voice, his very means of communication has been maimed, nearly stolen from him. If you want to look for one of the reasons why he's changed, Oliver's in constant pain. It's possible that he even suffered a brain injury from the fall or a blow from Ra's Al Ghul; an injury like that can lead to personality changes."

Roy swallowed, "Okay, but… why wouldn't he bring me with him? I… I can help him. Oliver has trained me and made me stronger, better."

"I don't think that he was thinking clearly," he stated bluntly. "He was near death and we weren't there. Maybe that has to do with it."

"Don't pin this on us!" Laurel snapped, "We thought that he was dead!"

"But we… trusted Merlyn's word about it." Diggle's eyes closed and the image of that severed head with the petrified, forever-still features was all that he could see. "We should have gone to look ourselves and maybe even found Nyssa and Maseo, wherever the hell they were, and brought Oliver back to Starling for true care."

Felicity frowned, "That can't be right. As Laurel said, we didn't know that he was alive."

"But we must look at this from Oliver's point-of-view if we want to understand, not our own; he's the center of this. Maybe unconsciously, he… lost trust for us because we weren't there when he awakened from his fall, or whatever happened. He fully trusts Nyssa because… she was there and has been with him since; their bond is strong, as a result."

"I hadn't thought of that," Laurel looked down. "Do you think that… this is permanent, his changes?"

"I don't know, Laurel," he wished that Lyla were here but he struggled on. "Things have changed because of all this and things will never go back to what they once were; they can't because it's impossible. We've all changed subtly since Oliver's duel with Ra's Al Ghul but Oliver has changed almost fundamentally; he's different."

"He's outgrown us, hasn't he?" Roy asked sadly, "That's what it feels like."

Diggle closed his eyes, "I know."

"That's it?" Felicity demanded, "We're just… that's not what has happened! We're Oliver's friends! This is just a rough patch, that's all."

"I hope that you're right, Felicity," he smiled grimly. "I really do."

"See? Everything will work out," his friend swiveled back to face the computer screens. "Now if only I can find Darhk."

"Have you checked the power usage through the city?" Roy wondered after a moment, "Darhk and Brick's hideout would be using a lot of it."

Felicity's fingers stilled over the keyboard and she groaned. "I knew that there was something that I was missing. No, I haven't, but now I will." Numbers blurred across the screens and Diggle leaned forward trying to decipher them, but it was hopeless; he understood none of it. "That's strange," his friend murmured, craning her head forward. "If I'm reading this correctly, Starling City's power usage levels in the past weeks surpass almost any city in the entire country. Hold on… Look at this!" Felicity pointed a construction blueprint. "During the Cold War, many bunkers were built in case the Soviet Union deployed their nukes at us. There are several connecting ones in Starling City and they've been abandoned for decades; they should be empty."

"But they're drawing power, aren't they?" Roy hissed through his teeth, "Of course, they are; the snakes always return to their rightful home: underground."

"The bunkers are drawing a lot of power when they should be drawing none." Felicity leaned back, "That must be where Darhk and Brickwell's hideout is; they're using the old Cold War bunkers in Starling City."

"Well, I guess that we're just going to wait for Oliver and Nyssa to get back with Thea." Diggle concluded, "Then we can create a plan to attack with them here."

"Do you think that they've… you know, slept together?" Roy pondered, "I've never seen Oliver that… open with a woman before; he trusts Nyssa."

"They would make beautiful, deadly babies," Felicity murmured without bitterness to Diggle's surprise. His friend blinked and a slight flush donned her cheeks. "I mean… we were all thinking it, weren't we?"

Laurel's lips twitched, "I'm pretty sure that the only one thinking about it was you, Felicity. I've missed your ill-timed remarks; it's refreshing."

Diggle interrupted, "Perhaps we can do another reconnaissance mission."

"Fuck that, man." Roy shook his head, "Do you remember what happened last time we did that? Darhk played around with us and only let us live because we amused him. Do you remember what it felt like?"

"How what felt like?" Felicity demanded, "What do you mean?"

Roy swallowed, "Twice now, I've been held in that prick's grip and I've never felt so weak, so powerless. Don't you remember that feeling, Dig?"

"I do, Roy," he inhaled slowly. "I've never experienced anything like it. Maybe then we shouldn't do that again."

"Then what can we do?" Laurel asked, "Are we just going to sit around and do nothing?"

"No, we won't do that." Diggle glanced at Felicity and had an idea. "Since you're close with Palmer, why don't you ask him if you can borrow some… drones."

"Drones?" Felicity furrowed her eyebrows, "Palmer Technologies doesn't make drones, John."

"It can, though," he pointed out. "Palmer's crazy about you. If you ask him to do something, he will. Just ask him to make a few drones for fun and then we can use them to scout out those Cold War bunkers. We already have their blueprints, but we need more than that."

Felicity crossed her arms, "I'm not going to lie to Ray just so- "

"We need it, Felicity." Roy interrupted, looking sad yet steely. "You clearly care for Palmer and that's good, but do what you can to get the drones."

"I have something better in mind, actually," his friend murmured before she blinked innocently. "I'll do what I can."

Diggle nodded slowly, not knowing what Felicity meant but trusting her. "Thank you. We just need to hold down the fort until Oliver, Nyssa, and Thea get back."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Nyssa blinked in shock and annoyance at Oliver's words. "You only mention now that you know a magic-wielder?" She glanced at Slade Wilson where he sat with his back against the inner wall of the plane. "Does he know the magic-wielder?"

"No, I don't," the one-eyed man declared. "The kid only just shared it with me on our little trip."

"How did you even meet a magic… magic-wielder, Ollie?" Thea stood next to her brother; the training had started well and Nyssa felt pleased by the progress that she had already observed. "Was it here?"

"It was. It was a long time ago and he owes me a favor." Oliver raised his brows challengingly at Nyssa, "I didn't tell you for the same reason why you didn't tell me that your father has the Alpha and Omega bioweapon."

Nyssa sighed inwardly, beginning to understand that the Alpha and Omega bioweapon was an anger-inducing subject for him. "I am sorry that I did not tell you; it did not seem important."

"Oliver, can you contact this magic-wielder, John Constantine?" Talia demanded calmly. "If not, I believe that you will need to leave Purgatory to do so."

"There's a network that I installed in the plane after the Undertaking," he then pulled out a phone. "It should still be working. I should be able to call and have internet access in the plane - but only the plane."

"Wait," Thea's lips parted. "You came here instead of that vacation you told me about?"

"Yes. I'll give John a call to cash in the favor."

"I suggest that you do so with haste," she inclined her head. "The sooner we know how Darhk's magic works, we will then be able to create a plan to defeat him."

"It's working. I'll call him, now," he pushed something on the phone and held it against his ear. For several moments, nothing happened and then Oliver spoke. "Good to hear you, too, John. I'm calling in that favor that you owe me…" he trailed off and listened intently to whatever was being said. "The angels can wait, then… No, I'm not going to apologize… This is important and it won't be hard for you. I need your help. How quickly- " he frowned at whatever he was hearing. "It's about Damien Darhk… Yes, Damien Darhk… Yes, my voice is fucked up… I'm on Lian Yu… How quickly can you- "

A portal suddenly appeared near Oliver and Nyssa, along with Talia and Slade Wilson, immediately pulled her weapon out, prepared for anything. A man of average height walked through the portal; his hair was blonde and he wore a beige trench coat over formal wear.

"It's been ages, mate," the man clapped Oliver on the shoulder and the portal vanished like it had never been there. "I had been hoping that you forgot about that favor." Nyssa shifted her stance and slowly returned her weapon but she was still tense; she saw that she wasn't the only one. Oliver was the only one who seemed calm. "I should have known that you wouldn't have forgotten," the man grinned and pulled a cigarette out of nowhere; his fingers than controlled, to Nyssa's shocked eyes, small flames to light it. The man inhaled and blew the noxious cloud out through his mouth. "If I'm to do whatever it is with Damien Darhk, I'm gonna need this smoke."

Oliver nodded, "I appreciate it. Do you know Darhk, John?"

"First, are you sure that the favor you want isn't me healing your voice, mate?" John Constantine stared at Oliver and his face portrayed slight wariness. "Trust me, it'd be a lot easier on us both."

"I'm sure."

John Constantine sighed and finally observed Nyssa, Talia, Thea, and Slade Wilson, and then he whistled. "If I had known that Oliver has been surrounding himself with such gorgeous women, I would have called him a long time ago." He stepped towards Thea with a charming grin, "What's your name, love?"

Oliver's hand suddenly clamped on John Constantine's shoulder. "That is my sister."

"Whose name is Thea," Nyssa watched in amusement as Thea cut in while rolling her eyes. "I can handle myself, Ollie."

"Ahh, I understand, mate. Don't get your knickers in a twist." John Constantine pulled the cigarette back to his lips. "And the others? Actually, the two of them look similar. They sisters? And what 'bout the pirate?"

Slade Wilson frowned, "I share a lot more similarities with pirates than having an eye patch. I'm just as brutal as they were, if not more."

John Constantine didn't even blink, "And you two lovely ladies?"

"I am Nyssa Al Ghul, daughter of the Demon's Head," she declared and when she realized that Talia was still observing John Constantine, she spoke for her. "And this is Talia Al Ghul, firstborn of the Demon's Head."

"The Demon's Head?" John Constantine's hand froze with his cigarette dangling between his fingers; his eyes had finally lost their charm and turned serious. "That's some ancient magic, love."

Talia raised a brow, "Speak plainly, John Constantine. My sister and I do not know much about our father. We would like to know more."

More cigarette smoke clouded the air as John Constantine exhaled. "Ra's Al Ghul is a powerful being in the grand scheme."

"What do you mean?" Thea questioned, "You make it sound… ominous."

"It is, love. If nature didn't like Ra's Al Ghul, any of the incarnations, his empire would have been snuffed out one way or another. Nature has given him a great position; he's the retainer of balance in the world, the celestial forces of light and darkness on Earth. While he's not on the side of the angels as I am, he's not against them either; he's neutral and cares solely about balance. When that balance is broken, and it's always evil and darkness that breaks the balance, Ra's Al Ghul is called by nature to restore it."

Nyssa nodded, "That was in much more detail than anything that I have heard, but that sounds exactly like father."

"Indeed, it does," her sister stated. "Father always preached about maintaining order; he replaces evil with death."

Oliver crossed his arms across his chest; he looked thoughtful. "What does that have to do with magic, then? You mentioned the Demon's Head was ancient magic when Nyssa introduced herself and Talia."

"The Demon's Ring, it's powerful, more than you know; if people knew of its capabilities, they would fear Ra's Al Ghul more than they already do, mate." John Constantine finally dropped the cigarette and stomped his foot on it; he then picked up the butt and tossed it into the remnants of the fire. "Legend says that it was forged from the remnants of the fallen Lucifer's armor; it was then imbued with ancient arcane energies and given to a mortal man who recognized the need for balance in the world. They say that once he donned that Ring, he shed his mortal self and became Ra's Al Ghul, the first to bear that great mantle. It says that the Ring controls all of Ra's Al Ghul's warriors. It has since been passed down to each Demon's Head and bonds to their souls; they become imprinted. I don't know much else, no one does. Only Ra's Al Ghul himself truly knows what the Ring can do."

"And Damien Darhk?" Nyssa questioned after a moment of digesting those words; she had no idea if they were true. "He is the leader of H.I.V.E."

"Are you sure about that, love?" John Constantine's eyes were serious; they lacked the charm and spark they possessed earlier.

Oliver stepped forward, "What are you saying?"

John Constantine shrugged, "There are rumors that Damien Darhk is just the herald for someone else; they say that H.I.V.E. belongs to another and that Darhk is just the false head."

"What aren't you telling us?" Slade Wilson demanded; he abruptly reminded her of the beast and Nyssa subtly reached for her weapon. "You have big balls to speak so vaguely."

"The biggest," John Constantine grinned shamelessly. "Many a fine lady has complimented- "

"Who is the real power behind H.I.V.E.?" Oliver cut in; his voice was calm but his eyes were not. "No matter what the rumors are, tell us."

"Yes," Nyssa nodded. "For whom is Darhk the herald?"

John Constantine sighed, "No one knows. I don't know much about Darhk because I try to stay away from him; he emanates darkness. Whatever your problems are with Darhk, I suggest that you let bygones be bygones. Get the hell out of it while you still can."

"That's not happening," Oliver's voice was flat, almost reprimanding. "We need to know everything about Damien Darhk. What about his magic? What if I demand that you kill him for me? That would be the favor."

"I can't kill Damien Darhk, mate; his magic is… it's beyond mine." John Constantine had never looked so serious, "Believe me, that ain't a fight of which I would be the victor; it would be a slaughter and I would be the lamb."

"Why is his magic beyond yours, John Constantine?" Talia questioned evenly, "You opened a portal to travel here; nothing Damien Darhk has ever done suggests that he could do the same."

"It's because of his damned idol, love. That thing worships death and its power is unparalleled amongst mystical artifacts. The clot would make short work of me with that thing."

"Idol?" Thea looked incredulous, "Why would an idol be so powerful? Do you have an idol?"

John Constantine snorted, "I wish. It would make things a lot easier, trust me. A magic-wielder harnesses the mystical energy inside of themselves, and it's a lot of work - and I can't stress that enough. But an idol cancels out all of the work that you need to do; it's like driving on a motorway instead of a regular road. Your magic is increased and the idol provides everything necessary. Darhk's idol is incredibly powerful; it's impossible to defeat him with that damn thing."

"Then we destroy it." Oliver declared in his permanent whisper, "Can you help us do that, John?"

"No, you- you're not understanding, mate. That idol - if you could even find it, and I doubt that you would because Darhk isn't an actual clot - is beyond you, beyond anyone I've met. It harnesses primordial energies, specifically death and destruction; it's a child of evil and whoever dares use it as their idol will be stronger than you can fathom." John Constantine shook his head, "I've been warned about him, about that idol, too. Some of the lesser angels are even wary of it."

Nyssa frowned, "That is unacceptable, John Constantine. Damien Darhk must be killed and we need to know how to achieve our aim."

"Love, you may be gorgeous but you're insane."

Oliver cut in, "If Darhk is so powerful with this idol, far stronger than you could be- "

"Wait a minute." John Constantine looked insulted, "I didn't say that, mate."

"It was implied," Oliver replied flatly. "If Darhk is so powerful, why hasn't he attacked Ra's Al Ghul, then?"

"Would he even be interested enough to do that?" Thea questioned, "I mean, it sounds like a cat unconcerned with a mouse."

A dangerous gleam entered Talia's eyes. "Oh, he is interested, absolutely. My father and Damien Darhk's rivalry is ancient; they were once the greatest of brothers but turned into the fiercest enemies." Nyssa noticed that Oliver and Slade Wilson glanced at each other. "There must be a reason why Damien Darhk has refused to draw the wrath of our father."

John Constantine sighed, "Well, as I said earlier, Ra's Al Ghul is no amateur, either. I do know that Darhk refuses to be anywhere near the Demon's Head. I don't know why, though, love."

"Because Darhk fears father; he is afraid of him," she whispered. "That is why. We know not the reason, but that is what makes sense. Otherwise, Nanda Parbat would have been besieged by Darhk and H.I.V.E. long ago."

"We all know of the legends of Ra's Al Ghul." Slade Wilson murmured slowly, lone eyebrow furrowed, "But Darhk seems much… stronger than him because of his magic. What would Darhk have to fear from Ra's Al Ghul?"

"Shit if I know, mate," John Constantine shrugged. "My knowledge of both these wankers is slim."

"Is it blackmail, or something?" Thea guessed, "I mean, there must be something that Ra's Al Ghul has over Darhk. It sounds like Darhk could wipe out the Shadows by just waving his hand."

"That's it: a Shadow." Oliver looked directly at Nyssa and Talia. "It must be the Ring. Twice now, I've heard that the Ring can control Shadows. Darhk would still technically be a Shadow himself, wouldn't he? He was a horseman for the former Ra's Al Ghul- "

"Damien Darhk was never formally released as Al Sa-her was." Nyssa breathed out with wide eyes, "He can still be controlled by father; the Ring can enforce father's will upon Damien Darhk."

John Constantine's eyebrows rose, "Shit on a cracker. How 'bout that?"

Talia frowned, "Then why has father not done it yet?"

"What do you mean?" Slade Wilson asked, "What are you saying?"

"They say that the Ring enforces his will on Shadows and that its reach is infinite; they say that it reaches the four corners of the world. Father should be able to control Darhk, but has never done so."

Nyssa's lips parted, "Darhk's magic must keep it from happening, then."

"But then that would negate the entire fear that Damien Darhk holds for father, sister."

Oliver glanced at Talia, "Were you formally released from the League?"

"Yes," her sister bowed her head. "Father was furious by my decision to bear Bruce and have, in his words, the unspeakable arrogance of claiming him to be the Heir to the Demon's Head. As punishment, he formally released my from the League in my exile; he wanted nothing to do with me, but he still kept Shadows watching me at all times."

"So your father can't control you, then." Thea's eyebrows were furrowed, "That's why… Malcolm lived as long as he did, isn't it?"

"It is, Thea," Nyssa nodded. "When one is formally released from the League, it seems that Ra's Al Ghul's control of them vanishes; they are free."

"But Darhk wasn't released, right?" Thea questioned, "He can still be controlled?"

"We do not know, Thea Queen," her sister's eyes locked onto Nyssa's. "But it seems that he should be able to be tamed by father."

"But why hasn't that happened?" Slade Wilson glanced at John Constantine, "You said that Darhk wants nothing to do with Ra's Al Ghul, right?"

"That's right, mate." John Constantine stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. "I've heard that Darhk refuses to be anywhere near Ra's Al Ghul."

Oliver blinked hard and frustration was carved into his features. "What the hell? This isn't making sense."

Nyssa noticed that a small smile suddenly graced Thea's lips. "What if it's like a WI-FI signal? I bet that's it!"

"What?" Talia frowned, "Speak plainly."

"Actually, love, that makes sense." John Constantine murmured, "Why the hell didn't I think of that?"

"WI-FI signals are stronger at the source location." Thea explained, looking really excited, "The further away that the signal tries to reach, the weaker the connection becomes. Darhk's magic is able to protect him from the Ring if he's far away, but if he were near Ra's Al Ghul, he would be as vulnerable as any Shadow - even with his magic. He knows that and that's why he fears Ra's Al Ghul and also why Ra's Al Ghul hasn't controlled him already!"

Nyssa's eyebrows rose, "That is logically sound."

"None of this necessarily aids us in our quest to secure Damien Darhk's demise." Talia pointed out, "We cannot call upon father for he will kill me- "

"Wait," Oliver's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I killed the Shadows who were watching me before I came to Lian Yu, Oliver. I am no longer just a traitor to the League but an enemy, as well."

"I'd hate to be a fly on the wall for that family reunion." John Constantine muttered. "Makes my relationship with my father seem perfect."

"We cannot call upon father regardless, not until we are ready."

Oliver nodded, "She's right. Ra's Al Ghul is our trump card to defeat Darhk, but we must try to beat him beforehand. We need to destroy that idol. John, are you sure that- "

"Mate, if I could, I would. Nobody likes Darhk; it would be better for everyone if he were kicking daisies."

"Then do you know what it looks like?" Oliver looked weary and Nyssa felt concern. "Can you tell us that much?"

John Constantine sighed, "I don't know what it looks like but if you ever encounter it, you'd know it, mate. I do know that the idol is small but it packs a helluva punch in magic."

"Is that all you can tell us?"

"Pretty much."

"I appreciate what you've done." Oliver didn't seem satisfied and to Nyssa's observing eyes, it looked that John Constantine understood. "This does actually help us, at least a little."

John Constantine snapped his fingers and then rotated his hand in a circle. The portal appeared once more and he stepped towards it, but before he entered, he glanced back at Oliver. "Don't worry, mate. I still owe you a favor."

Oliver frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"If you think that this was a magical favor by yours truly then you're as crazy as I think you are. All we did was talk 'bout those two wankers. You saved my life. I'm a lot of things, but I always pay my debts, no matter how hard they are to pay off." John Constantine smirked roguishly and entered the portal. "I'll see you around, mate."

The portal vanished and Nyssa saw Thea shrug. "Well, at least you still have that favor to call in, right?"

"I guess so," Oliver words were soft. "We still have no plan to beat Darhk and destroy his magic."

"It sounds like we just need to find that idol, kid." Slade Wilson's lone eye was serious. "He said that we'd know it if we saw it."

Talia frowned, "Yes, but Damien Darhk would never be thoughtless enough to keep it away from himself."

Oliver sighed, "We'll think of something. We have to."

XxXxXxXxXxX

**Well, that's all for this one, everyone! I hope that you enjoyed it and please leave a review to tell me what you thought. It would really help me out.**

****Oliver and Thea return to the plane, where Talia, Nyssa, and Slade are waiting! Prophecies are re-spoken and lots of conversations so that everyone understands. The biggest information, in my opinion, that came out of that was the identity of Talia's son: Bruce Wayne. (** **Most of the theories that I saw suggested that Oliver would be Talia's son. That would have been really interesting, but I had already decided to do Bruce Wayne as Talia's illegitimate son. Plus, we already know what Oliver looks like and he looks nothing like Talia Al Ghul.) That wasn't meant to be a disrespect to Batman's character in any way, but to be honest, this is NOT a Batman story and Batman doesn't really even exist in the Arrowverse. There's a reason why Arrow is the main part of the universe. It's about Oliver Queen and he takes center stage. Plus, Talia Al Ghul is depicted as being too old to be Bruce Wayne's lover in the Arrowverse - unless he would be attracted to an older woman, of course - and seems more like she could be his mother; it would be interesting. Bruce Wayne was still raised by Thomas and Martha Wayne and then later Alfred after his parents were murdered. He has no knowledge that Martha wasn't his true mother; he knows nothing of his heritage so he would still be the same as the comics or movies or whatever. When he is introduced into the story, and I plan for him to be in a minor role, I thought that it would be really interesting for him to discover the truth about his mother and the blood that flows in his veins. (It could provide answers for his inclinations to even become a vigilante, you know, besides the trauma of watching your parents being gunned down in front of you as a child.)**

**About Oliver being better than Bruce Wayne: this is an** _**Arrow** _ **story, not a Batman one. (Yes, Batman would crush Oliver Queen in the DC comics.) In this story and universe, however, Oliver is better because of the significant training that he has had, whereas Bruce Wayne hasn't really received much training, only being trained by half-trained specialists and then Alfred. Oliver has been trained so far by Yao Fei, Shado, Slade Wilson, A.R.G.U.S., and then Talia Al Ghul herself. He is leagues above Bruce Wayne because he has had much warrior training, whereas Bruce hasn't. I've designated a tier-system: warriors are the most dangerous men and women in the combat world and incredibly skilled at fighting and killing. Fighters are people who haven't really had the warrior-training but are still skilled but not the best at combat. As a result, a true warrior like Oliver or Nyssa could easily defeat a fighter such as Bruce Wayne in this.**

**Also, does anyone else find it incredibly ridiculous that Ra's Al Ghul, a man who has lived for centuries, has only two daughters? I mean, he is a man who is also one of, if not the most powerful man in the world. He could, to be blunt, demand women be brought to him so that he could sire children through them, but he never does. A single man can sire hundreds of children if he really tried and wanted to in a single lifetime and Ra's Al Ghul has lived for multiple lifetimes. (Look at the Guinness Book of World Records about the men who have fathered the most children in history. It's over a thousand.) And then Ra's Al Ghul has a Lazarus Pit so he wouldn't really have a problem down south. It's unfathomable that Ra's Al Ghul has never had a son who would succeed him, so I created the problem that he was always concerned that his children would fight for the mantle of Demon's Head after his death, thus leading to the weakening of the League's power as contestants for the throne of the Demon's Head duked it out.**

****Nyssa and Talia begin training Thea! We already know that Thea knows how to fight, but she is still only a fighter. She needs to become a warrior - and although that would take a long time to achieve, she needs to have the foundations for it - to have a chance against the best of H.I.V.E.'s soldiers against whom she will probably fight. I think that the best thing that she could still learn is just how dangerous the people who she will be fighting are, and mostly, they will be men. All of Brickwell's deranged criminals are barbaric men and then most of H.I.V.E. are trained men to top it off. Thea will be facing incredible danger because of it so Nyssa and Talia revealed how dangerous it would be. I'm sorry if any of you wanted her to train with Oliver, but to reach her full potential as a fighter/warrior, Thea would need to train with someone like Nyssa and Talia. Oliver and Malcolm would be ill-equipped to fully help her because they CANNOT stand in Thea's shoes, so to speak. Nyssa and Talia can, though, and it's the best way for Thea to learn.**

**Now, I meant no disrespect to Nyssa and Talia and any woman who is a warrior during that conversation, but it was shown that Nyssa could never beat Malcolm or Oliver. (In the Season 2 fight, it was clear that Nyssa was much more skilled than Oliver but when she was in Oliver's reach, his superior strength is what won the fight as he incapacitated her in a chokehold.) Why is that? Nyssa has trained her whole life whereas Malcolm and Oliver haven't trained near as long. It's obvious why: strength, speed, and durability. Remember, I have broken it into tiers: fighters and warriors. Nyssa is a warrior and she could probably easily defeat any fighter, but she would have more trouble, as shown with Malcolm and Oliver, with male warriors who are incredibly skilled and experienced with the superior strength. Because when people are evenly-skilled and trained, from personal experience, I've found that it's often strength that wins the fight. (Anyone who says that size and strength don't matter in a fight is living in a fantasy world or trying to con you.) Oliver and Malcolm and male warriors, unfortunately, have that advantage. Remember, too, the only reason why Sara beat Al-Owal and the other Shadows in that Season 2 episode were those traps that she had hidden and Oliver's timely arrival. Thea learns just how dangerous being a vigilante-like person is, but she accepts it and begins her training with Talia and Nyssa.**

****Oliver and Slade talk and some stuff is revealed by Oliver about his 'thing' with Felicity. I've been vocal before about how I have never liked the Olicity stuff and if you like it, that's completely fine, but it always felt really forced and unnatural to me - and maybe I am being too logical about it. Who knows? Anyway, it rubbed me the wrong way how the writers were clearly going in that direction in Season 2: how they had Sara leave because of a stupid reason, and then how they killed her off immediately to start off Season 3, and then Oliver's whole declaration to Felicity to fool Slade. I didn't have a problem with the latter because I thought that that would totally be something that Oliver would do to administer the Mirakuru cure to Slade; he was blatantly manipulating Felicity's feelings so that he could defeat Slade. It seemed sound but I think that he would have felt guilty about doing that and that's what would have started all of the Olicity drama in the first half of Season 3.**

****The rest of the team talk, and Roy is kind of pissed off at Oliver. Diggle explains some stuff and eventually, they find out where Darhk and Brick's base is: an old Cold War bunker. Diggle would be the only one out of the 'team' who would truly realize what happened or have theories about why Oliver has changed so drastically. Remember, he was in the military and the first person brought into the fold in the show. Before the albatross that was Season 6, Diggle was to whom Oliver was closest; he would know Oliver better than anyone - and that includes Felicity, in my opinion. Diggle is also the most emotionally mature and stable so he could look at it through different lenses than the others. Felicity and Laurel - real Laurel, not the Black Siren one - have always been shown to be compromised by their emotions and Roy is still a young kid around Thea's age. To be blunt, kids at that age usually don't know shit about lenses and have trouble looking at the bigger picture or from in someone else's shoes. (That's just my experiences, not an actual fact.)**

**Honestly, the whole team-not-being-there-when-he-awakens-from-death was incredibly lacking in the show. I mean, Oliver was gone for months and the team trusts a notorious liar and manipulator in Malcolm Merlyn instead of looking themselves. Yes, I know that they had the sword and seeming confirmation that Oliver was actually dead, but they could have still looked - or at least looked for the body. In my opinion, Oliver should feel at least somewhat betrayed that his team wasn't there when he woke up and didn't look for him. I have envisioned Oliver's whole awakening-from-death as a newborn's-like dependency on their mother. (I'm not saying that Nyssa is Oliver's new mother, not at all.) Who was there when Oliver was literally at his lowest point ever? Nyssa - and Maseo, too, but Nyssa has remained by Oliver's side ever since, something that Maseo has been unable to do. Oliver latched onto Nyssa as a result and she filled the role of trusted friend/confidante/potentially more since no one else was there for him - such as his team. Yes, the relationship is somewhat Florence Nightingale Effect-like, but that was clearly what Nyssa and Sara's was, as well.**

****John Constantine appears to talk to Oliver and co about Damien Darhk and magic! I always liked the inclusion of John Constantine but honestly never liked how it was solely for Sara's resurrection in Season 4. Constantine explains some stuff that he knows about Ra's Al Ghul and Damien Darhk. Okay, there must be a reason why Darhk never conquered Nanda Parbat already, right? I mean, if he has magic and hates Ra's Al Ghul, why doesn't he simply saunter into Nanda Parbat, fling all of the Shadows away, and then suck the life force out of Ra's Al Ghul or something? There MUST be a viable reason for why he never did that, so I created one since there never seemed to be one in Canon. It was also a good way to make Ra's Al Ghul a much more imposing, fearsome character. I always thought that the Demon's Ring had significance, especially Malcolm's reaction when Nyssa melted it in the travesty that was Season 4, but it was never expanded on. The Ring makes Ra's Al Ghul much more than he seems and yes, I did borrow some elements from J.R.R. Tolkien's** _**Lord of the Rings** _ **. Also, I did need to create a reason why Ra's Al Ghul hasn't already contained Damien Darhk through his power of the Demon's Ring so I hope that it was a good one and seemed realistic.**

**I think that's everything. If you have questions, feel free to ask. It would really help me out if you guys left a review; it lets me know what's working and what isn't. I appreciate it!**

_**Stay Safe  
** _ **ButtonPusher**


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